


Memoro Ergo Sum

by Huntress79, Tiny_Dragongirl



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Androids, Big Bang Challenge, Found Family, Gen, Major Character Death Before the Beginning, POV Tony Stark, Road Trips, So Does Peter But In A Different Way, Spaceships, Spiderverse Big Bang, Spiderverse Big Bang 2019, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-26 16:24:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20745194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huntress79/pseuds/Huntress79, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiny_Dragongirl/pseuds/Tiny_Dragongirl
Summary: Tony Stark is a freelance hauler. He's used to taking packages without asking questions, and he's definitely not used to walking-talking packages, like kids. Like a certain kid named Peter Parker, who never seems to run out of questions—and who seems to attract trouble. Together they're facing a bumpy road all across the galaxy…Your cup of iron dad sweetness, topped with space pirates, sprinkled with S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. Enjoy!





	Memoro Ergo Sum

[ ](https://images2.imgbox.com/b2/e5/mUueex1b_o.jpg)

I’d grown up on a junkyard until I’d skipped off with the ship _ I _ had patched up—I’m only saying this as a fair warning that I don’t know many stories. Sometimes the older kids had told tales, of course, but all they had talked about were real heroes. Like Che Hanso, the smuggler with a big mouth and an even bigger heart, or Bin-Ho, who stole zillion-credit worthy datas from the largest companies in order to help the poor and the weak. But somehow these real hero guys had always seemed to be in the middle of the action; breaking and entering, or going south, their job done. No one had ever told me about real heroes waking up, brushing their teeth, or taking a shower, and I know no story that starts with the real hero loitering in any ordinary spaceport on an ordinary day, with nothing to do whatsoever.

Sorry not sorry, kids, but it is _ my _ story, and that is exactly how everything started.

After I’d unloaded the cargo from the Bus... I’d like to mention it here that the special paint I’d used to write “SHELLHEAD” onto my ship wasn’t a credit well-spent since everyone just kept calling her The Bus… Anyway, after unloading the stuff, I was loitering in the port for a while, in hope of a new assignment. Alas, no success. Growing tired of futile waiting, I walked into the Red Dwarf and ordered a bottle of _ sheork _—not that I didn’t know what to do with those thirty credits from the previous job, but I tried to tell myself that a good drink at the right place counted as an investment. The Red Dwarf wasn’t that bad (I’d seen much nastier bars), and my instincts were right. I didn’t take more than two swigs from the bottle when Phil sat down to my table.

I always liked Phil—I don’t know where he got his tip-offs but the jobs he offered were mostly legal. And even though they usually paid in fuel and ship parts, hey, at least they paid! It was just a bonus that I didn’t even have to fear being cornered in a dark and dirty alley—I had learnt it the hard way that beating the hauler into a pulp was a popular payment method.

So, yeah, I was glad to see Phil. Especially when he revealed what he had up his sleeve for me.

“The job is totes cool,” he assured me. “You pick up the package on Regina, Queens sector, and deliver it to New New York, Green sector. Easy peasy livin’ greasy.”

“I’m not sure about it, Phil. I mean, the Bus is a rusty old girl and it’s quite the journey. If she breaks down halfway, what do I do?” I scraped the label off the bottle while talking. Rule number one: don’t show too much interest. “What do they pay?”

“600 credits, mate! But if you’re quick, it could go up to 800 credits, I bet.”

“For a single package? It’s either something totes illegal or something disgustingly valuable.” Which meant that either the IP arrests me if I’m not careful, or pirates find me—if I’m not careful.

“Chill out, yo! It’s totes safe. My informant is a very serious guy; he wouldn’t sell me down the moon river. The job isn’t a hundred percent legal—let’s say ninety percent, okay—but if you’re discreet, everything will go smoothly.”

I never liked when they offered too much for a job. A star in the hand is worth two in the sky. On the other hand… On the other hand, Phil had never disappointed me before and it would have been nice to make a killing, just for the sake of variety, so I thought; why not?

[ ](http://imgbox.com/sN1z8Xxf)

What can I say, it was most surprising to arrive, following the received coordinates, to a less busy shipyard of Regina only find two blokes in lab coats guarding a kid. There was no package whatsoever. Or, as it soon turned out, the kid was the package.

“Look, I know my ship looks like some out-of-date school bus but it’s still a cargo ship. I’m not taking passengers on board—not even pets! And especially not kids.”

Fine, fine, my ship didn’t just look like a school bus, it was actually transformed from a school bus. I had attended school for some years before I was sent to work at the junkyard but believe me, school years had been my best years. We had studied and lived at the school—it had a proper dorm with proper beds! I never stopped dreaming of those beds. Of course, there were rules to be kept, but at least I didn’t have to use a cardboard as blanket. So when I spotted the old school bus at the junkyard, I immediately knew that one day it would become my ship. Love at first sight, huh? It took me ages to boost the bus up, and I would never understand why would anybody study and sleep _ on _ a bus when it’s totes unfit for both—but I made a pretty cool ship out of it. She became my workplace and my home. Yeah, that’s the Bus.

Although I’d never expected that once I would make room for a kid on my ship.

“He won’t cause any trouble.”

Is that how you answer someone who puts his valid concern into words? Because that was all the answer I got from the lab-coat men.

“I’m a hauler, not a babysitter!”

“Don’t mind him. He won’t cause any trouble.”

Very reassuring. In his defense, up to this point the kid hadn’t uttered a single word; he was too busy looking everywhere with his big, brown eyes. He might not be a problem after all, if he could sit still while I put a seat belt around him.

“Alright. Give me the coordinates.”

Lesson number one: twelve year olds are big boys who can fasten their own seat belts, thank you very much.

“Look, kid, there are only two rules,” I announced as we ascended from the shipyard. “Don’t touch anything, and if you want something, just tell me or ask your question or whatever, but don’t _ do _ anything.”

The Regina was quite a huge dot behind us when the kid asked his first question.

“Why SHELLHEAD?” His voice was small, almost comically, but he didn’t sound scared. If anything, he sounded curious. “The ship’s name, I mean.”

Everything would have been much easier if I had simply ignored the question or told him to mind his own business. But we had a long journey ahead and for the first time in forever I had a passenger, so there was no point in not talking. After all, my employers never forbade me answering a simple question.

“That was my nickname at the junkyard,” I said and, glancing into the rear view mirror, I could see that his curiosity wasn’t fed but only further stimulated. “It was tradition to build our own ships of junk, and when we could finally skip off, we passed on our nicknames to our ships.”

“What if somebody couldn’t build a functioning ship?”

“Those usually crashed, adding to the junk. Or, they blew up leaving the artificial atmosphere.”

The kid’s eyes went wide. Maybe he didn’t expect such a detailed answer.

“Sorry, kiddo, that’s the nature of the galaxy.”

He kept quiet for a while—long enough to make me flinch when all of a sudden he said,

“Spidey.”

“Gee, kid, are you trying to give me a heart attack?” I groaned. “Whatcha sayin’?”

“Spidey. That’s the name I’d give to the ship of my own making if I was from a junkyard.”

“Yeah, that’s— that’s a nickname just as good as any.”

Between us, that’s quite a junk nickname, if you ask me. Sure thing, the kid had long limbs but just the regular pairs, not eight of them.

“Where are you from?”

The question you should never ask. Smugglers in the human-trafficking business knew this rule too well— but I was only a hauler who had never transported a walking-talking package, if you get what I mean.

“I was transported from the Taurus V colony to the Regina.”

Yeah, this information didn’t help much. I still had zero idea about why would anyone pay 600 (or 800) credits for delivering them an orphan. Maybe the kid was a plant breeding genius—or what kind of a heritage could he bring from an agricultural planet? Every single soul in the galaxy knew that the Taurus orphans were raised to become farmboys—or farmgirls, whatever. The Regina and this whole hauling business didn’t fit into the picture.

“And did they tell you your destination?”

Hear me out, kids— I should have never ever asked this question. You didn’t need to be a human-trafficking expert to know it.

“I’m meant to be the professional playmate of Senator Osborn’s son.”

I whistled. “Nice career, huh?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Shellhead.”

“Please, don’t call me _ that_!” I groaned.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Listen, kid, don’t call me sir either, okay?”

“Peter.”

“What now?”

“It’s my name. Now you know it so you don’t have to call me kid.” Yeah, he had the nerve to explain it to me.

“I thought you were called Spidey.”

“That was my nickname and even _ kid _ is a better name than that.”

“Someone is very thin-skinned…”

The kid knitted his eyebrows and settled back into silence until we reached the Swan Swarm. As we passed by it, the kid plastered himself to the window, he was so busy gawping at the constellation.

“Sir, is the whole galaxy this beautiful?”

“See, kid,” I sighed, “stars are everywhere and they tend to be very bright, yes. Though these few might be brighter than the others.”

“Wonderful,” the kid muttered and I snorted at this.

“Like you had never seen stars.”

He shrugged but didn’t take his eyes off the Swan Swarm when answered:

“I was a baby when I was taken to Taurus V, and I’ve never traveled in space ever since.”

“And the journey to Regina? Surely you were taken there by ship.”

Now he looked at me, puzzled.

“I— I don’t remember.”

“Weird.”

And the Bus took us across the galaxy. The kid stared at the Fox Hunting and the Cat’s Eyes like the starving would look at a piece of bread. Then, whenever he got tired of star-gazing, he asked me about the Bus. After his umpteenth question I told him to sit beside me because I was growing tired of craning my neck.

We reached Ankh in a surprisingly short amount of time so I allowed us a well-deserved stop.

Ankh, this gigantic, artificially patched up planet absorbs travelers from the three largest sectors (Queens, Ironshare, and Green) only to spit them back to space dizzy from the smell of oil mingled with a trace of spices and the scent of sweaty skin. You’ll see it for yourself that it’s like a rich, forever undulating soup. That’s why—even though I was sure that as a member of the Osborn household the kid would travel a lot—I thought it would be a good idea to take a walk, just around the shipyard, of course. Let the kid see this dirtier, busier face of the galaxy.

“Your leg hurts, kid?”

“What? Uh, no.”

I understood him—it felt good to stretch my legs and I was used to spending a helluva lot of time on a ship. I mean, the Bus isn’t exactly a ballroom, is it?

We went to find some food; something that’s not just edible, something that didn’t come from a can, dried or gelled. The last time I visited Ankh the Delmar & Murph Food Palace was a decent place that served good food in its first floor restaurant and offered clean beds in the basement. It seemed to be our best option to get a nice meal. At the entrance a familiar security guard checked the guests for hidden weapons. You know, laser shows or flying bullets are rarely good for business… Anyway, Happy, the security guard (his name-tag said H. Hogan so I started to call him Happy for the grim look he always wore) nodded as we stepped over the threshold. A hearty lunch was awaiting us—too bad that the shrill sound of the alarm made us freeze to the spot.

What the heck.

Happy shrugged, motioned us to step aside and took out a meti-sensor.

“It happens all the time.” His face was totes impassive. “I told them a zillion times to check the system—yesterday it went off at a simple navel piercing—but I guess the maintenance lot finds it funny that I have to scan every third guest.”

I stepped forward and let him scan me with the meti-sensor. Nothing. Of course. Last time I checked I hadn’t hidden a laser gun into my sock.

“Come on, kid, get it over with! Then we can go and eat.”

Much to my surprise, the meti-sensor turned bright red at the kid.

_ What the heck, _ I thought, _ did _ he _ hide a weapon in his sock?! _

“’m sorry,” Happy said, his face as impassive as ever, “but according to the new modifications in ethics laws underage androids aren’t allowed to enter the establishment.”

First I didn’t even understand what he was saying. Then I suddenly had a zillion questions. I turned to the kid, opened my mouth but seeing his puzzled look I closed it. I tried again with the same result. The third time I finally managed to ask,

“Please, could you repeat it?”

Happy had the same bored expression—I guess he was used to dumb guests—when he said, “According to the new modifications in ethics laws underage models are banned from Delmar & Murph Food Palace. You can go in, the android can’t.”

“The boy isn’t an android,” I protested so Happy showed me the screen of the meti-sensor.

Where his heart should have been, the kid totes had a freakin’ battery.

“What the heck, kid, what the heck,” I muttered.

Yes, right, I might have used stronger expressions.

I knew we had to get away before Happy grew suspicious of our behaviour. The last thing I needed was the IP panting down my neck about a stolen android, so I grabbed the kid’s elbow and, waving goodbye to Hap, pulled him with me. When we reached a busy street at a comfortable distance from the Delmar, I stopped and faced the kid. Android. Whatever.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a machine?”

“But—”

“Of course, it’s forkin’ logical that a senator wouldn’t buy a teddy bear for his son, no, he’d totes buy an android!”

“I’m n—”

“Freakity freak, how did I not notice that I was talking to a robot all along?!”

“I’m not a robot!” the kid snapped, so loudly that many heads turned towards us. (Sometimes two heads from the same neck.) Okay, time to tone down the emotions.

“Look, kiddo, I’m sorry but the meti-sensor thinks that you’re an android. Battery as a heart with cables, covered by synthetic skin. Fancy design, yes, but you were _ designed _ nevertheless.”

He shook his head vehemently. “But I’m not— I mean— I’d know if I was an android, right?”

“Dunno, you tell me.” I sighed. “Just an example: what if you can’t remember your trip to Regina because there was no trip? What if you were put together on Regina?”

“But I remember my time on Taurus V,” he protested and yeah, he had a point.

“Maybe those are implanted memories. Androids can have those, can’t they?”

“Dunno, you tell me, you’re the android expert.” His tone was mocking but the corners of his lips were dangerously turning down. I didn’t want to find out if androids were capable of crying.

“I’m not— Look, maybe you’re a brand new model.” I scratched my neck because I had an idea—possibly a very bad idea. One that would cost me time and probably some money, too, while it could endanger us both? Yup, definitely a bad idea. So I decided to roll with it. “I’m not an android expert but I know someone who is. It’s a little detour but he’s a discreet guy and more importantly, he’s a safe guy. He could help you with your memory problem without causing trouble in your system—the senator wouldn’t congratulate me for bringing him a faulty package, wouldn’t he?”

“‘m not a package,” Robokid mumbled. “But what if I’m a real boy? Your friend won’t drill a hole into my head, will he?”

“Heck, kid, whatcha think? Nobody starts with drilling holes into heads, that’s like step twenty-seven.” I sighed. “It was just an idea, we don’t have to—”

“I want to meet your friend.”

“You have a strong mind for a twelve-year old.” I bit back my ‘_ must be a robot thing _’ comment. “Whatevs, let’s go.”

“To your friend?”

“He’s not exactly— Heck, yeah, sure. To my friend.”

[ ](http://imgbox.com/XhJt57Ek)

Bruce wasn’t my best option just because I had known him to be a discreet and fine technician but he also had his lab on Ankh. Bonus: I didn’t even need to call him beforehand, I knew he would see us without asking. Robokid gaped at him—I guessed he hadn’t met too many Hulks on Taurus V. _ If _he came from Taurus V at all.

“Hi, I’m Bruce.” Bruce offered a huge, green hand to the kid who shook it. “Good to see you, Tony.”

Robokid blinked at me. “I thought we were using our made-up names.”

Yeah, I might have forgotten to tell him my real name. In my defense, I wasn’t used to talking-walking packages, okay?

I scratched my neck. No, I don’t have fleas, thank you for your question, it’s a thing I do when I’m embarrassed. “Yeah, about that… I’m Tony Stark, this is Bruce Banner. Bruce, this is Peter the android.”

Bruce knitted his heavy dark brows. “What did you say, how long have you been traveling together?”

“We’re not traveling together; the kid is my package.” Okay, this was leading nowhere. “Look, Bruce, I want to ask you a tricky favour. Peter is the package I’m supposed to deliver to— to someone who pays good money. Nothing illegal here but Peter has, er, memory problems, and we ask you to look into the matter. But! There shouldn’t be any traces about looking into the matter, capiche?”

“Tony. If I bring forward hidden memories that’s kinda traceable, don’t you think?”

“It’s not traceable if Peter doesn’t mention specific memories, is it?”

“He’s a twelve-year-old, not a secret agent!”

“He’s in the room,” Robokid reminded us but I waved him off.

“Quiet, kid, the adults are talking. Anyway, he might look like a twelve-year-old but he’s actually an AI.”

Bruce sighed. “Hop on the bed, Peter.”

“Are you going to examine me?”

“Don’t drill a hole into his head.” For some reason they didn’t find my remark funny.

“We’re going to give Tony a lesson about androids.”

Robokid climbed onto the biobed; he was half-way up when Bruce tossed him a sonic screwdriver without any warning. His hand shot up and caught it in the flashiest of flashes.

“Lesson number one,” said Bruce, “androids have enhanced reflexes. Heck, they have enhanced everything!” He took back the screwdriver, dropping it into a pile that seemed like an army of screwdrivers. “Of course, androids with different purposes have their abilities at different levels. For example, a battle droid would have enhanced combat mode but would be less life-like. Don’t want to sound insensitive, Peter, but nobody wants to spend too much time and energy on making something aesthetically pleasing when it’s gonna be busted into pieces in mere seconds. And now we’ve reached the question of looks, lesson number two.”

“He looks like a normal kid to me.”

“My point exactly!” Bruce picked up a meti-sensor—I could tell it was a more delicate prototype than the one Happy had. “Peter, you might be the finest android I’ve ever seen.”

“Uhh, thanks?”

“Look at this structure!” He held the meti-sensor over robokid’s knee. “Peter’s brand new stuff—sorry for my wording, Peter—he’s an android that’s meant to grow up! Can you see the fluid in his knee? And those microcables? With the help of the fluid they’re capable of stretching, so Peter can grow taller and stronger like normal kids do.”

“Sounds cool to me.”

“For your information, evolving androids aka the Drevolvids, are said to still be at an experimental state,” Bruce knitted his brows thoughtfully, “but there are rumours about a few complete models. If Peter’s one of those, you’re asking me to mess with the memories of a very valuable android. It could cost us a zillion credits.”

Robokid huffed. “Excuse me, could we go back to teaching a lesson to Mr. Stark?”

I ignored his whining. Suddenly I felt like a light bulb was switched on in my head. “But Drevolvids aren’t _ exactly _ like normal kids, are they? They’re the finest androids but not perfect because,” I paused for effect, “because their structure can’t cope with growing, not in every aspect. I thought the kid walked so stiffly because he’d spent too much time cramped in a ship but it’s actually a glitch in his system, am I right?”

“Congrats, scientist.” Bruce smirked. “Though it’ll probably disappear when he’s finished evolving. Growing up. Whatevs. But still, he has very serious advantages to us—especially if we count the fragile hearts of you humans. Lesson number three, the heart of an android.”

“He doesn’t have a heart, he has a battery.”

“Yes and no.” Bruce moved the meti-sensor in front of Robokid’s chest. “Peter needs to eat and drink and sleep to fuel his battery, yes, but lucky him, his heart’s got back-up.”

“Yeah, lucky me,” Robokid grimaced.

Bruce pressed a button on the meti-sensor and now it projected a large picture of Robokid’s insides. “Do you see that faint blue light, Peter? That’s a tiny arc reactor, made out of vibranium—usually they use palladium for power cores.”

“Let me guess; vibranium is way more expensive.”

“Bingo.” I whistled. “Kid, you’re the most valuable package I’ve ever had.”

Robokid shrugged with a sad look on his face. “Humans don’t have two hearts.”

“Apalapucians do. Also Kulans.” Bruce patted him on the back with his free hand (huge as a dustbin lid) and almost knocked Robokid off the biobed. “Lots of species have binary vascular system aka two hearts.”

“Androids don’t actually count as species, do they?”

His small, wistful question made him look like a normal, human kid—but he had such mature and clever questions that only an artificial intelligence could ask, right? I didn’t want to pity him, to _ feel _ with him. I mean, how could you feel with a machine that isn’t capable of feeling?

“No, they don’t,” Bruce shook his head, “sorry, Peter. But you know, every other day now comes out a new regulation or law modification concerning AIs and that’s— Well, trust me, that’s more than a lot of species have nowadays so uhh, I’m sure you won’t be treated badly.”

“Yes, because I’m soooo expensive.” He knitted his brows. “So when they say that according to the new modifications in ethics laws underage androids aren’t allowed to enter the establishment, that means… What does it mean?”

“Yeah, right, that’s a nice example, although maybe not so accurate because this modification was meant to stop the rampant pedophilia—”

“Whoa, whoa!” I quickly covered Robokid’s ears with my hands. “Not in front of the kid, Bruce!”

“But look around, Tony, what did we gain with it? They’re using those child-like androids in dirty alleys and drug dens, that’s not a step forward, more like a step backward and—”

“I know, Bruce, okay? I know.” A vein was throbbing dangerously on his forehead—trust me, kids, you don’t want to anger a Hulk. It was time to stop his rant before it turned into a rampage. “But right now we have to deal with this android at our hands. Something is not okay with this one and maybe we shouldn’t get mixed up in this biz but I’m afraid we’re already neck-deep in shit, so what do you say? Think you can help us?”

Bruce took a few calming, deep breaths and I let go off Robokid’s ears.

“I’m going to examine your memory, Peter, alright? Lean back on the bed, please. I need to attach these cables to your forehead but I won’t be drilling holes, okay?”

“Okay.”

Even with cables attached to his head Robokid looked disturbingly human and I almost stopped Bruce when the machine started whirring. But a machine can’t hurt another machine, right?

“Is that my mind?”

Robokid didn’t dare to move his head but he tried to peek from the corners of his eyes so desperately that Bruce turned the screen so he could see it better. Bright green, yellow, blue and red patches of light flashed so quickly they were hard to follow.

“We’re barely scratching the surface, figuratively speaking. Right now the computer is scanning your mind’s basic functions, looking for anomalies. I mean, if there’s something out of order.” The machine started beeping. Bruce checked the results (a bunch of numbers and stripes and dots) then pressed a button. “We’re digging deeper now. You might want to close your eyes for this part. Just relax, Peter.”

More whirring, more colors, more numbers, stripes and dots. It all went according to plan, really—but you’ve probably figured out by now what happens in a story where everything goes according to plan.

Of course it all went friggin downhill in an instant.

The door was blasted, so was part of the wall. Listen, kids, that’s not the polite way to enter a room, that’s the bad fam way. It wasn’t a big bada-boom and most of the debris hit the back of Bruce who shook it off like he didn’t even feel the impact (which was probably the case) but still, knock first, break doors later.

“Get him and run!” Bruce barked at me. That vein was throbbing again and I could see him already growing taller. With his sturdy, muscular body he wasn’t a small guy before but soon he’d be _ enormous _. Trust me, kids, you don’t want to face a Hulk in their fighting form.

Nevertheless, I hesitated.

Robokid seemed to be in a sort of a trance with his brows knitted but eyes still firmly closed; I didn’t like the idea of tearing him off the machine. So I turned to the spot where the door used to be and stared at the smoke, waiting for the attacker (or attackers?) to become more distinct. Maybe when I saw them, I could calculate the risks more precisely—

“For Jupiter’s sake, just go!” Bruce yelled as if he was reading my thoughts. “Don’t let the bloody pirates put their hands on him!”

“What are you planning to do?”

The smoke slowly started to dissipate, revealing five looming figures. To me, the correlation of forces looked kinda unfair but Bruce knocked his fists together and grinned.

“‘m gonna smash them!”

I contemplated turning off the machine first—but what if I shut down Robokid, too?! So in the end I only plucked off the cables, one by one, as gently as possible, and picked him up. Robokid stirred but didn’t open his eyes.

“I hope Bruce didn’t boil your brain” I groaned while hoisting him up onto my shoulder in a fireman carry “or whatever you have in your head.”

For someone made of metal, he was surprisingly light. Whoever created him, they got the image of the underfed Taurus orphan right.

I headed towards the rusty backdoor—because if you’re a mechanic who builds and repairs robots, from cheap models to the real expensive stuff, you should always have a backdoor. Especially if you’re from the Hulk species. They’re considered to have extremely violent tendencies (and if you’d seen how Bruce greeted the first intruder entering his lab, you’d understand what I’m talking about) which makes them the perfect target of regular police harassment. And sometimes avoiding conflict by slipping out the backdoor is safer than standing by and watching with gritted teeth another unnecessary razzia, the third that week.

Of course, you’d have to be insane to attack a Hulk’s lab, even when there were five of you. As the pirates poured in, running right into Bruce’s fists, the percentage of survival instinct per one room quickly started dropping. About time to slip away.

There were a few boxes in front of the door but a pirate cleared them away when Bruce decided to throw him across the room. Both the arc of his flight and the landing were a satisfying sight. And the grunt and thud that accompanied them! Delicious. I kicked the guy in the shin, just to be sure, and pushed the door open with my kid-free shoulder.

_ For an ambush, we got away easily _, I thought and oh boy, how wrong I was.

I ran up the stairs, boots scraping on the metal steps, and shot out of the escape door into the open. (Thank Mercury for bad safety measures and unlocked doors!) Now I only had to pass six garages, a warehouse, turn the corner and cross the parking lot to reach the Bus. Easy peasy lemon squeezy, right? Master level: do it all with a twelve-year-old hanging from your shoulder. If that didn’t give me a heart condition, nothing would.

Panting, I put down robokid and tried to shake a little life into him. “Wakey, wakey,” I murmured. “Don’tcha want to show those enhanced legs at work?” No response. I really really hoped Bruce didn’t fry the insides of my very expensive package. “I’m not some superhero to carry around your bony butt.”

When Robokid gave zero sign of hearing me, I picked him up with a sigh and resumed running. The first garage… The second garage… The third garage… The fourth garage, only two more to go— Bang! An explosion, not big enough to cause serious damage but still strong enough to throw me off my feet. As I was knocked into the corrugated metal door of the nearest garage, Robokid got smashed between me and the door, before gravity finished what the explosion started and both of us slid down to the ground. Ouch.

One of those scumbags (pardon my Vogon) somehow managed to pass Bruce and threw another of their door-breaking bombs. Not cool.

With my ears still ringing I scrambled to my knees and gripped Robokid by the shoulder, shaking him. We had only a four-garage advantage and a little smoke that was quickly dissipating out in the open—way quicker than in the lab.

“Kid, you all right? Kid, it’s really time to wa—”

His eyes snapped open and instinctively lifted his arms in front of him—to punch me or to defend himself, I didn’t want to find out so let go of his shoulders and grabbed his wrists instead.

“Whoa! Easy! Guess who? It’s me. Same side. Team Peter, not Team Pirates.”

“What— what happened? Did you say pirates?”

“Yeah, let’s chat later, okay?” I practically dragged him to his feet. “Can you stand? Things are about to— Crap.”

Pirate Guy was a humanoid who had an aquiline nose (one of the unbecoming kind), a pair of cheap magnetic wings (since when did pirates fly?), and a way too short distance to cover in order to reach us. Much shorter than I’d hoped for. Climbing up onto the top of the garage? The wings ruled it out. Resume running? Too long way to go, not enough space to dodge behind. Should I fight the guy? I didn’t even have a screwdriver on me. Anyway, I needed more time, not weapons.

“Oi, you! Pretty wings you have there! Limited edition?”

Remember, kids, when you need more time, your best option is to stall for time. Even if Pirate Guy didn’t bother to answer me, just flashed us an ugly grin.

“A Flerken got your tongue?”

“Kid, you’re really not helping,” I hissed before addressing Pirate Guy again. “So, anything you want to share with us? A death threat maybe? Do you have a name or something?”

He opened his wings in one swift motion. “You can call me the Vulture.”

Great. We totes had to encounter pirates with a taste for drama.

There came a roar (the unmistakable voice of Bruce), followed by another Pirate Guy flying out the door and face planting on the ground. His dramatic entrance (or should I say outrance?) caught the Vulture’s attention.

“Run, Peter!”

I followed Robokid, running in a twisted position as I simultaneously tried to keep an eye on the Vulture. When he noticed that his prey was escaping, he brought his wings into play and rose up into the air. With this advantage he would reach Peter in no time.

Also, he made a great target.

Pew! Pew!

Two bullets pierced his right wing and the Vulture spiralled down. I could see he was frantically trying to regain control over his cheap toy. _ Serves you right, ugly duckling! _

Robokid gaped at the scene; after his nasty landing, the Vulture collected himself quite soon but to no avail. The silent little black ship that had sent him down cut him off with firing a volley. The predator became the prey. Quite a spectacle but with the enemy back on ground the ship now had a less ideal firing angle and we were still far from safety. It could hold the guy back for a while but we had to move.

“Come on, kid!”

We passed the warehouse, turned the corner and sprinted to the Bus. I almost dropped my keys in the hurry (I know, I know, who has oldschool keys to a spaceship?!) but we got in! As soon as I turned on the power, the comm started beeping.

“_Do you have a death wish? _ ” Pepper asked so sharply it was a miracle that her voice didn’t cut the air in two. “_Why did you choose the strategically worst point to park? _”

“Because the Bus is a proper ship, not a matchbox like your little boat, and I can’t leave it wherever I please.”

We left the parking lot and turned onto an empty street. I might not be able to park the Bus anywhere but at least I can use both as a ship and a motor vehicle.

“_You can’t take off here, you’ll have to drive to the nearest dock._”

“Yeah, yeah, already on it.”

“_I’m sending you some coordinates; you need to follow them, okay? I’ll join you as soon as I can._”

“Okay, boss.” There was a loud ping. “Got the coordinates!”

“_Good. See you soon, Tony! _”

“Thanks for the help, Pep! Oh, by the way, Pepper, this is Peter. Peter, say hi to the lady.”

“Umm, hi?”

“_Hey! Oh sh— Gotta go!_”

The comm went silent. Robokid gave me an anxious look.

“Don’t worry, she’ll be fine. Those guys can’t handle Bruce _ and _ Pepper, trust me.”

I could sense Robokid fidgeting and keep twisting back his head while I programmed the coordinates as our new destination.

“Is Pepper driving the black ship that saved us?”

“Yep. That’s a stealth ship, even if it’s a very small one.”

“Cool.”

Remember what did I say about overpaying jobs? Either the IP gets you, or pirates—_ if _you’re not careful. See, Pepper is my security strategy. She’s a smuggler, a talented one, I dare say, and if she has my back, no police or pirate would harass me.

“How did she know that we were in trouble? And why were we in trouble? What did the space pirates want from us? Did they come after me or you? How did they find us?” Robokid knitted his brows. “I don’t understand _ anything _.”

I sighed. “Me neither, kid, me neither.”

“So what now?”

“Well, Pepper’s a wise woman and if she wants to send us somewhere, we should listen to her.” We were reaching the dock now. I gripped the wheel, readying for the take-off. “Buckle up, kid! We’re going on a space trip.”

[ ](http://imgbox.com/mhSawizQ)

The journey was long but surprisingly uneventful. Robokid slept a lot, often mumbling in his sleep. When he was up and listening, I tried to brief him on what happened in the lab…

“You should have seen Bruce throw that guy across the room; it looked beautiful!”

...tell him about Pepper…

“She’s the toughest person I know. Factory orphan, mind that, from Extremis. It’s a dangerous business, being a factory orphan, I mean; accidents happen all the time. But Pepper found her way out of that planet, and I don’t know where she’s leading us right now but I trust her with my life.”

...and ask him about his memories.

“Any change in there?”

“Yeah, everything is very messy now.” Robokid rubbed his temple. “I try to focus but I can’t remember anything properly, there are just random pictures. A warm room with straw-filled mats… A blonde-haired girl… A man in a white coat… The harsh blue sky above a cornfield…”

“I don’t wanna say it’s bad news but it doesn’t sound good either.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“Not your fault, kid.”

I patted his shoulder. Yep. Definitely not his fault. If anyone’s, probably mine—but I didn’t want to think about possibly breaking a _ really _expensive piece of machine.

“I don’t know where we’re going, so you should probably eat an’ rest.” Smooth way to change the topic, huh? “If I understood Bruce right, your tough, little robot body needs nutrition.”

He must have been hungry because the kid got up without arguing, only to return with two bags of jellied fruits.

“I said nutrition, not dessert.”

“Good source of potassium!” So much about not arguing. At least he gave one of the bags to me. “Your weak human body needs nutrition.”

“Are you supposed to turn into an annoying teenager this quickly?”

“No idea,” he said, chewing on a yellowish green block of jelly, “this is the first time I’ve ever been a teenager.”

“‘tis the first time ever you’re anything. No offense but you were designed this way; baby Peter only exists in your fake memories.”

It might have come out harsher than intended because the kid shut up for two whole minutes. When he spoke again, there was that- that unearthly look in his eyes and odd tone in his voice. If anything, they should have made him look less, not more like a human child.

“And what about you? Do you have any experience in dealing with teenagers?”

“Me? What? No! I’m no father material.” I snorted. Totes crazy idea, huh? “I mean I don’t even like kids.”

“You’re driving a school bus which probably makes you the slowest hauler in the galaxy, and you don’t like kids?”

You lot, you shoulda’ve seen those confused eyebrows.

“It’s not really a school bus, more like a cool bus. Am I right, ye rusty ol’ girl?” I caressed the console and the kid laughed. “Call her slow again and I’ll throw you out of the airlock!” The kid only laughed more as I mock-threatened him. “If you’re done with your jello, go down and try to sleep a bit more.”

“What? Mr. Stark, we’re in the middle of space! It’s no time to sleep!”

“It’s bedtime when I say so.” I threw my empty, crumpled bag at him. “Your battery needs to rest. Charge up. Whatevs.”

The kid didn’t move just knitted his brows. “You could always take me to my original destination, you know,” he said in a small voice. “I’m sure the senator would pay you the whole price.”

_ Of course he’d think so low of me; he’s a bunch of cables in a metal shell, _ I thought.

Or: an orphan with messy memories and with zero reason to trust me—or anyone else, as a matter of fact.

“Or you could sell me on the black market,” he went on. “After all, if I’m such an expensive… thing, I must be worth a lot of credits, so—”

“I won’t sell you,” I interrupted, “but if you want me to take you to the senator, just say it and I’ll change the coordinates.”

His eyes went wide. “I get to decide?”

“If you want to spend your designed life-time at the senator’s home that would surely offer you every comfort and luxury of the galaxy, who am I to stop you? You only need to say it.”

If I’d had the chance, I’d have given my- my arm, my leg, my anything to get out of that junkyard and live the life of the wealthy-an’-healthy. Heck, I’d have given my soul!

“Kid, space pirates are trying to hunt you down.” I tried a different approach. “I don’t know who they are or what they want from you but we might get answers at this mysterious place where Pep’s taking us. We might not get anything. One thing for sure: if I take you to the senator, well, he has the better chance to protect you.”

“But I’d never know what the pirates want. Or what’s wrong with my memories.” He scrunched up his nose. “Anyway, following mysterious coordinates sounds like an adventure. Luxury sounds boring.”

I rolled my eyes. “So, what’s the verdict? Space or New New York?”

“Space!”

“Then space it is.”

A small, satisfied smile appeared on his face.

According to what they say about androids in general, I should have never trusted the decision to him. After all, I had zero idea about what was programmed into his brain. But forgetting androids for a moment, which responsible adult consults a twelve-year-old about their destination? See, who said I was responsible? I didn’t understand a single thing that happened but I wanted answers. What did Robokid want? If he’d been any ordinary kid, I’d have said adventure and excitement, but I wasn’t sure about AIs being capable of wanting anything.

“Now that all is settled, it’s really time for you to sleep.”

The kid fidgeted a little in his seat before asking, “Can I stay up here and watch the stars until I fall asleep?”

“You’ll be very uncomfortable and your neck will feel very stiff when you wake up…” I tried to argue but he gave me the puppy eyes and actually, it didn’t matter a single bit where he slept. I even fished out a thermo blanket (_ my _ thermo blanket) for him from under the seat. “Oh, fine, stay if you want.”

[ ](http://imgbox.com/fmtHr46l)

When the comm beeped, I was half-awake, half-dozing; after putting the Bus on autopilot, I allowed myself to take a short nap. Sadly, I was disturbed by the high-pitched noise of an incoming call way too soon.

“_I have good news, bad news, good news. _”

It was Pepper on the other end of the line.

“Shoot.”

Robokid stirred in his seat, mumbling and sleepily rubbing his eyes.

“_I tried to catch one of the guys but they slipped away. That’s the bad news. On the other hand, I did some extra rounds before catching up with you and they’re nowhere to be seen. They won’t bother you— well, at least, not for a while. We’ll be reaching our destination soon. I’ll lead you._”

An idea hit me. “Should I power up the magnet catch?”

“_Nahh, it’s safer if we’re not linked. Easier to flee if something goes awry._”

“Where are you taking us?”

“_I’m not completely sure. These guys are mighty secretive as you’ll see in a few seconds._”

“I can’t see— Whoa!”

Just a second ago nothing was in front of us, nothing but black and empty space. Then a huge Solicarrier appeared—and by “appeared” I don’t mean by a hyperspace jump. One moment it wasn’t there, then it was with its massive engines and small blinking lights, which could only mean one thing—

“Invisibility device!” I whistled. “Sweet.”

“Now, _ that’s _ a proper ship.”

Robokid’s eyes went so wide I feared they would pop out of their sockets. (Although, it might actually be less of a problem for androids.)

“Pep, the kid keeps insulting the Bus!”

“_You keep calling my ship a boat, so— _ ” I could picture her shrugging her shoulders. “ _ Okay, time to go! I’ll lead the way._”

“See you inside!”

Her boat (fine, stealth_ ship_) passed by us, giving a nice long view of its side.

“M-O-R-G-A-N” Robokid spelt. “Morgan was her nickname at the factory?”

“No, Morgan was her best friend. And mentor, sort of,” I explained. Sort of. “Pepper is her nickname.”

“Oh. What’s her real name then?”

I hesitated. Should I give away Pep’s real name to an android with a (to say the least) problematic memory drive? What if he ended up at the senator’s house after all? Let’s face it, I practically stole his expensive toy and Pepper helped me.

On the other hand, the moment I took the job I probably got double- or triple-checked and gave them all my data, so tracking down Pep would be no problem anyway. After all, whenever I saw it safer, I asked her to have my back—and when you have a slow ship (I admit, the kid was right about this one), slipping off can be tricky, so I asked her quite often.

“Virginia Potts. But don’t you ever think of calling her Miss Virginia.”

“Righto, Mr. Stark.” The kid turned his attention back to the Solicarrier. “I like her voice. She sounds kind.”

Concentrating on docking, I hummed.

“And she saved our butts from the space pirates which is kinda awesome!”

“Keep your fanboying down; you’ll meet Pep soon enough.”

The docking went smoothly; the Solicarrier swallowed us in like a space whale. Fluorescent green lights illuminated the way as we followed the MORGAN until we ended up in a huge, neon-lit hangar with at least a dozen other ships in it. The kid’s mouth dropped open at the sight and even I had to admit that it was a remarkable collection. Now that made me wonder who the owner was. I parked the Bus between the MORGAN and an empty spot—keep your friends close and the escape route closer.

“Welcome on board.” A sharp-looking woman with an erect military bearing, was waiting for us. She nodded to Pepper before her attention turned onto me, her gaze shifting to Peter. After eyeing him for a few seconds, she gestured towards a door. “Follow me. Please.”

Not the owner then, just a minion. A kinda scary minion.

I half-expected Pep to catch up with Lt. Minion but she fell behind to walk with us, keeping the six-step distance from our guide. Either she didn’t trust them too much or just wanted to encourage the kid, I couldn’t tell, but it was good to have Pepper by my side as we were led through more doors (many of them code-locked) and never-ending corridors. Peter didn’t look scared but rather curious. We passed a few people on our way; all of them wearing the same black uniform and carrying weapons on them. _ Friendly. _

We walked in silence, up until the moment Pepper pulled off her pilot gloves, revealing her left hand—which was made of metal, from wrist to fingertips.

“Whoa, you have a robot hand!” The kid went from timid curiosity to over excitement in one second. “Are you a cyborg?”

“Peter, don’t say that! It’s not, er, polite.” I chided him.

“Why? My friend Michelle told me that we call people who have both organic and mechanical parts cyborgs—and you have a mechanical hand, right?” His question was addressed to the smiling Pepper.

“Well, yeah,” I stammered, “but calling someone a cyborg just because they have a mechanical hand or a cochlear implant or, you know, _ one _ biomechatronic body part, is considered rude.”

The kid didn’t seem to get it. “But why?”

“Because- because then you’re calling them hybrids. Half-man.”

“So? That hand is awesome!” He frowned. “Unless- unless you’re ashamed to have a mechanical hand? Is it shameful to be part robot?”

“No, it’s not.” Pepper gently stroked his head. “Tony didn’t mean it like that, did he?”

“No, I didn’t. Awesome hand,” I mumbled.

She went on, “It’s okay to be part robot—or be completely robot, as a matter of fact—and your friend was right. Cyborgs have both organic and biomechatronic parts. But why don’t you tell us more about this clever friend of yours? Michelle is her name, right?”

“Yeah, but she wanted us to call her MJ because, you see, she used to be called Michelle Jones. She was the oldest to join us; most of us were babies or at least small kids when we were transferred to Taurus V but not Michelle! She clearly remembered the time when she’d been Michelle Jones and lived with her da, and little brother. Of course, her given name was taken from her but she insisted that she should be called MJ and— Oh, Mr. Stark!” If I hadn’t known better, I’d have started to worry Robokid would suffocate as he just kept rambling and rambling and rambling. “My memories!”

“What’s up with them?”

“Everything’s a mess in my head but if I concentrate on one person from memories, it all comes back. Awesome!”

“Awesome, indeed.” At least now we knew that Bruce hadn’t fried his brain. Apropos, Bruce. “Hey, Pep, how is Bruce doing? We left him in quite a hurry and he seemed very occupied with those pirates—”

“Bruce’s fine. A few scratches here and there but you know him. It’s not easy to hurt a Hulk, not even with such fancy tech the pirates had.”

“Fancy tech?” I repeated with a frown. “Call-me-the-Vulture guy had a pair of magnetic wings, one that you can buy at the market. Well, not any market but—”

“Yeah, well, their equipment was _ diverse _, to say the least. They had extremely cheap tech and you-cannot-even-get-it-at-the-black-market kind of weapons.”

“And what does it tell us?”

“That they have a benefactor, so to speak,” a way too familiar voice answered.

I froze on the spot. I couldn’t believe my eyes. My mouth dropped. Should I build the tension further or is it enough drama for you, kids?

Why the drama?

Because, tam-dam-dam-da, my ol’ pal Phil stepped out of the shadows. Except that instead of his usual undershirt and friendly face he wore a black uniform and a totes serious look.

Welp. I didn’t see this one coming.

He nodded to me. “Good to see you in one piece.”

I grimaced. “Surprised to see you here.”

“Phil warned that this job might be more difficult than usual,” Pepper explained. So she knew! Traitor. “So he gave me the coordinates to follow if we get in trouble. I was as surprised about his secret identity as you’re now but they might help us figure out a thing or two about those pirates.”

“Who are they exactly?”

“We’ll get there, if you’re finished with the small talk.” Ooh, Lt. Minion wasn’t a big fan of wasting time on human emotions. “This way.”

She led us into an impressive control room. These guys really had a taste for drama—if they hadn’t chosen to be a secret agency, they shoulda’ve been a theatre group. Imagine the Shakespeares they’d have staged! But instead of theatre lights they had little blinking green, red, and yellow lights on control panels and a huge windscreen. Outside? A zillion stars and promises of new galaxies. By one look at his face, I could tell the kid was fascinated.

A guy in a long coat stood in the middle of the room, with his back to us—obviously the boss. (In a theatre group, he’d have been the director, that’s for sure. Or the stage manager.) With a well-timed move, he turned to face us; the single eye on his forehead gazing at me, then moving to Peter, Pep, back to Peter, then finally back to me.

“You must be Tony Stark.”

As much as Phil’s presence shocked me, I wasn’t surprised finding out that a Cyclopeian was behind all of this, whatever this may be. It might sound racist but Cyclopeians are famous for being nosy _ and _ secretive. They like to keep an eye on things (if you get what I mean) but not to make much fuss about it. (If you don’t count their taste for drama, of course.)

“Agent Coulson told me he put you on the job. I thought it might be time to check on you.”

Since he didn’t hurry to introduce himself, someone had to ask the important question. I took up the job. “Who the heck are you?”

“Nick Fury, head of Strategic Homegalaxy Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Diversion.”

“Wow. That’s a mouthful.”

“We’re working on it.”

Shakespeare, I wanted to suggest but I wasn’t sure he’d get the joke. Yeah, I know, it wasn’t a very good joke anyway.

“So, who are you? What do you call yourselves? Apart from long and messy names, I mean. Secret agents? Superspies? Know-it-alls?”

“Yeah, well, we have a broad job description. But the principle this agency was founded upon was protection. We protect those who need to be protected, may it be one person or a whole galaxy.”

Sweet but high-sounding slogans wouldn’t turn my head, so—

“Okay, you clearly know more about this business than I do, so care to enlighten me? Anybody?”

Phil “Two-Faced” Coulson stepped forward.

“We got a tip about a new android technology; one that isn’t licensed yet but already available for the highest quarters. From as much information as we could gather, it became clear that Peter was the only one completed and sold piece—so far. Naturally, we couldn’t intervene sooner; interfering is too high a risk for the mission.”

“Mission?” I asked back in disbelief. “You sent me on a mission without notifying me?”

“Everything went according to plan,” Fury shrugged. “More or less.”

“So the pirates were part of your_ plan_, or what?”

“We needed to see if the black market would show interest in the technology.” It would have been nice to see them sweat a bit but heck no, they all talked about using us as baits like it was totes normal. (Which probs was the case from their points of view.) “Of course, if the situation had gotten out of hand, we’d have stepped in, but you managed to bring the android to us without making too much noise. Thank you. Now we can examine the technology.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Pepper held up a hand—her right hand. She worked like a magician. Keep your eye on the hand I’m holding up, forget about my other one, the much more dangerous robotic hand, that was her trick. “You told me you had information. Nobody mentioned examinations.”

I was quick to agree. “Yeah, you risked our lives with your badly constructed, so-called plan and now you think you’re in charge?” Of course, it’d have been totes crazy to start a fight with these guys as we were seriously outnumbered and badly armed, but it felt good to show our teeth. “Don’t you think it’s time to start asking us if we want to cooperate?”

“Should I remind you that you came here willingly?”

“Yeah, and I’ll leave willingly if—”

“Okay, okay, stop!” Thank Jupiter for Phil hitting my cue because I hadn’t got the slightest idea what would have come after ‘if’. “Why don’t we go to the lab and—” I wanted to protest but Phil wouldn’t let me, repeating the ‘and’ with emphasis “and I’ll fill you in on what we know about the pirates so far while Dr. Connors runs a few routine tests? Everyone benefits.”

“Says who?” I grunted but Pepper elbowed me. Right. Probably the best deal we could strike with them, so— “Okay, fine, let’s do this! But no drilling holes into Robokid’s head?” They stared at me like I’d gone crazy. “Sorry, inside joke.”

Sure thing, my life was turning in a crazy direction.

[ ](http://imgbox.com/sN1z8Xxf)

No matter how suspiciously I eyed Dr. Connors, he looked like an okay guy in his white coat and neat lab. Judging by the tech around us, this bunch of superspies clearly had enough credit to get the newest machines. Unlike at Bruce’s place, everything was perfectly organised and shiny new around here.

“Let’s see what we have here.” After the kid hopped on the table, Dr. Connors switched on his scanner and turned the screen slightly so everyone in the lab could see it. “A functioning positronic brain. A lightweight adamantium skeleton. Two hearts in working order.” The doc stopped in his scanning and zoomed in on Robokid’s hearts. “Ooh, now this is unusual.”

“I know I have two hearts or batteries or whatever,” Robokid huffed. “But _ why _ do I have two of them? Why do I feel hunger? Why do I need to eat? So, you know, why do I need to appear like a human if I also need to be so different? Why is it so important that I am _ not _ human?”

Ahh, the big questions of teenagehood. How sweet.

Fury wasn’t amused. “Don’t get me wrong, Peter, but the thing is that all those questions formed in your brand new positronic brain had already been chewed by scientists, philosophers, artists, and so on. I’m sure you’ll catch up.” He nodded to Dr. Connors, “Could we move onto the important questions? The clock’s ticking.”

The Doc scratched his head. “Since developing one simple positronic brain needs 75234 operations to be carried out with meticulous precision, a thorough scan will take hours if I want to examine every single programme in Peter’s brain—considering that his isn’t a simple one but a very complex software, obviously.”

75234 operations?! Bruce worried less when he started scanning Robokid’s brain but of course, a Hulk has more chill than humans do— until, uhh, until you attack them and they lose all their chill.

“Also, I’d prefer examining Peter’s heart first. It also takes some time but considerably less.”

“Why his heart?” Ohh, this Fury guy was absolutely no fun.

“Because we have an AI with extremely interesting and brand new features here, on our ship, and we should examine its working from every aspect if possible?”

“Artificial intelligence yes, but intelligence is the keyword. There’s no such thing as artificial empathy. You can program them to resemble emotions but deep inside they won’t feel a thing. Maybe we should stick to the brain, not the heart.”

“Excuse me” the kid’s voice trembled “but I don’t see any empathy in you either. You’re constantly talking about me like I’m an object, like I’m not even here!”

You go, kid!

“Okay, why don’t we stop right here?” I loved how Pepper always sensed when to take control. “If I get it right, Peter’s body was designed as human as possible, which means that in a way he’s just a kid in desperate need of regular sleep and, possibly, a curfew. So, here’s my idea—why don’t we let Dr. Connors run a scan on Peter’s battery and wait with the complicated examinations? Peter could sleep—and so could we, because I don’t know about you, but I’d love to meet my bed again. Also, while we’re waiting for the results, maybe you could share your info about the pirates. In case, you know, you want to move onto the important questions.”

I gave it 30 percent that Fury’d agree but guess what, he simply nodded to Lt. Minion with a sour grunt. “Hill?”

“We don’t know much about them yet,” Hill started, trying to set our expectations low, “so they probably are freelance criminals who recently formed a team. Based on your report about the diversity of their weapons, they haven’t been together for long, and it’s very likely that their little formation was inspired by, as Phil put it, a benefactor.”

She shot a questioning glance at Fury, and after a few seconds of silence, he said, “They call themselves the Sinister Six.”

Ahh, confidential information. Too bad it was incorrect.

‘‘I don’t want to meteor shower on your parade but there were five of them,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, well, while you took your sweet time getting here, we did a little research and they’re definitely called the Sinister Six.” Fury smirked. “They’re probably bad at maths. No wonder they call themselves the Sinister Six, not Team Gauss or Bólyai Rangers.”

“Funny as it sounds, pirates actually are good at maths,” Pepper argued. “After all, you have to be good at maths when you’re dealing with big money and pirates are after the _ really _ big money. Logical, huh?”

“You saying?”

“I’m saying that probably their benefactor’s their leader, the mind behind the plan. The one who doesn’t go to the battlefield but pulls the strings that pull the hand that pulls the trigger.” Wow, Detective Potts had some impressive deductive skills. “If you can trace back the weapon to the money, you’ll find their leader. The sixth person.”

“You have a point. Coulson, look into it.”

“Is it possible to access memories about the weapons in Peter’s brain? It’d speed up the process.”

“He’s an android, not a camera,” I argued.

“And a very fine android, I’d say,” Dr. Connors added. “Peter, did you know that your primary heart was designed after a human heart?”

“Really?”

“Yes. Whoever created you, they bothered to use synthetic heart fibres and fused them with the battery. Although _ battery _ is a derogatory word for such a masterpiece. I’ve never seen anything like this. No wonder they used an arc reactor to support it in case it failed; this technology is revolutionary. I mean, who uses an arc reactor as a _ second _ heart, right? Someone who’s experimenting with something new, something ground-breaking.” The Doc ran a hand through his hair. “And the best thing? It works! Peter, you’ll never need to use your arc reactor. Congratulations on your technology!”

The guy was weird but I kinda liked his enthusiasm. Too bad that we really needed to get out of the lab before he forgot about the deal and started scanning Peter’s brain, which would have inevitably led to finding the traces Bruce hadn’t got the time to cover up.

“Great news. Thank you for your work! But since Peter’s stopped asking questions _ minutes _ ago, it’s really time for bed.”

Strangely, we got away with it. We agreed that further examinations should be conducted after Peter rested and that probably all three of us needed to lie down—and that was all. Hill led us into a small cabin with twin beds and she didn’t even lock us in. She was clearly warming up to us. 

“So, what’s the plan?” the kid whispered after we were left alone.

“What plan?”

“I still need my memories back!” He rolled onto his stomach. “Dr. Connors is okay, but you don’t trust this team of super secretive spies, do you?”

“No, not really,” I admitted hesitantly.

“Then if space pirates couldn’t get us, why should space spies? We should be solving our own problems.”

I sighed. “If we want to leave without their consent, soon our primary problem will be a band of heavily armed soldiers. You can’t sneak off a ship with a big yellow bus.”

“You can if you have a cloaking device.”

“But we don’t have one, do we?”

“No, but we could get one.”

“Yeah, best plan ever, stealing from top spies so we can run away from them.”

Robokid huffed. “They can make their whole ship invisible, right? Since it’s a huge ship, even if the software is controlled from the control room, it needs something extra to support the system. Like tiny chips in the wall with the necessary information built into them. We only need one tiny chip that you add to the Bus so we can stay hidden from the eyes for a few minutes. You’re a mechanic, you built your own ship, you can do this!”

Right. I shouldn’t have forgotten that his teenage body had an android’s brain inside.

“Your theory is based on fictional microchips, which makes your plan extremely… shaky.”

But, on the other hand, it had a few good points so we might as well could give it a go.

Can you imagine how annoying it is to open a panel on a wall and find microchips full of partial data about the ship? At least the kid couldn’t smile smugly as he was busy keeping watch.

In the end, sneaking of the Solicarrier was easier than I’d anticipated—probably because they didn’t expect us to run away. (Mental note for Fury: they should think about their manners if they don’t want their “guests” escape.”) We got onto the Bus so smoothly like born stowaways, I played my part well (come on, did you really think I couldn’t insert a chip into my own ship?), then we only had to worry about not running anybody over while invisibly driving to the exit. Piece of cake, really. As we sped up in space, I wondered how long would it have taken for Peter to build a ship and get away from a junkyard full of orphans if— If he’d been a real boy.

[ ](http://imgbox.com/XhJt57Ek)

Surprisingly awesome escape plan or not, I sent the kid to sleep. No argument allowed. As for myself, I wouldn’t have minded a little snooze either, but putting the Bus on autopilot so close to the Solicarrier seemed like a stupid idea. So I drummed my fingers on the wheel and whistled a tune to entertain myself. The kid never stopped asking questions or making comments, thus his absence made the cabin feel strangely silent. An unsettling realisation. I played with the thought of getting a companion but I quickly shrugged it off. A suitable companion for me? A plant, probably, but only if it doesn’t need to be regularly watered. Heck, if I’d wanted to play in a team, I’d have stayed with that bunch of secret(ive) agents. They weren’t aggressive, just super nosy and mysterious. Still, I didn’t mind leaving them behind—although I felt a wee bit sorry for leaving Pepper with them. Not that we’d had time to ask her to come along. On the other hand, it was clear that she’d known them—or Phil at least—for a long time, and when it came to tracking down space pirates, half a pirate herself, Pepper was their best option.

“What’s the situation?”

“Good Jupiter, kid!” I tried to regain my composure like I didn’t nearly jump out of my skin. “Why are you in socks? Where are your shoes? Put them on before you catch a cold.”

“I don’t think androids can catch a cold.”

“Normal androids can’t—but they can’t feel hunger either. I don’t want your nose leak oil all over the Bus.”

“Fine.” He sat down next to me, pulled up his legs and hugged his knees so his feet wouldn’t touch the floor. Half success, huh? “So, what’s up?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing here.”

“What were you doing then?”

“Nothing. Driving. Thinking.”

“What about?”

“Uhh, friendship, I guess. But what’s this interrogation? Did you spend too much time with the superspies?” I gently poked him in the shoulder. “And what about your friends? Any memories resurfacing?”

“Dunno, sort of? I remember my friends, I guess. Bits at least. Like, we had a special handshake with Ned. Or that MJ loved to draw with a straw into the dirt. Oh, and once Sam tried to cut Gwen’s hair but he got it wrong and in the end he had to cut it really short!” A smile appeared on his face. “That was funny.”

“So, Ned, MJ, Gwen, Sam, they were your friends, huh?”

“Yeah, and also my housemates! We had a boys’ room and a girl’s room but it wasn’t actually a house, just a place with mattresses on the floor and a wall in the middle. It didn’t really matter” he shrugged “because we only needed it for sleeping. When we weren’t working on the fields, we were either eating or playing but always outside. I remember it was warm on Taurus V, very warm. That’s why I don’t—” the kid stopped mid-sentence, eyebrows knitted.

“Why what?” I prodded.

“It’s nothing; I just keep remembering this cold room.”

“What cold room?”

“I don’t know, there’s not much about. Cold. White. Clean. Nothing like Taurus V.”

Weird.

“It sounds kinda like a hospital.”

“I don’t think they had a hospital on Taurus V,” he shook his head. “Though they had a school but it was far from us, so after a few years they stopped taking us there. Told us we were too old for that kind of stuff.”

“Did they use a school bus to take you there?”

“No, they had a—”

BANG!

The Bus shook with such force like we’d collided with the meteor and the kid promptly fell off the seat. What the heck did I say about seatbelts?

“You okay, kiddo?”

Bang! Trust a pirate to shoot twice and hit us first time but only graze us next time.

But I jumped ahead of the tale.

Oh, never mind, I already ruined the twist. Apparently, the cloaking device the chip’d provided us with finally wore off and in my effort of getting away from the secret agents we ran right into the space pirates. Yes, I can confirm, SINISTER SIX was written all over the side of their ship—which was now targeting _ my _ ship! Thanks to the Bus’ awesome shield (installed by an awesome mechanic) and the pirates’ bad eyesight, we were shaken but not broken— although the painting got chipped a little.

With my left hand on the steering wheel, I helped Peter up from the floor. “Buckle up, kid, and hold onto something that’s not me!”

Yeah, well, the shield survived two hits but I didn’t want to test its limits, so it was time to flee. Where? To the nearest planet, of course. On the good side, there was one quite close (like, right in front of us)—on the bad side, it was New New York, the place where we really didn’t want to go. Oh, heck, you can’t run forever, right?

“Ready, Peter?”

Time to crash land!

Okay, I might have exaggerated a little. I mean, we entered the atmosphere at an impressive speed but we didn’t hit anything, especially not the surface. We landed with a tolerable thud— and I immediately put my feet down, drove, wheeled around, drove, right corner, left corner, straight ahead, until we disappeared among the skyscrapers and blocks of flats.

Maybe this is the right time to share a wee bit information about planet-sized cities. As you’d drive into a city when on the road, you can flee into it when in space—through certain “gates”, of course, in order to avoid collisions. Still, when you’re driving a ship, you can’t just leave it anywhere, you have to park it in a dock. But (and this is my favourite ‘but’) when you have an amphibious ship, one that can move on a flat surface (like a school bus on tarmac), you can park it anywhere. If it fits. And if parking is allowed in the area.

Pretty cool, huh?

For example, you can leave it right in front of—

“The Museum of Historic Vehicles!” I rubbed my hands together. “Hidden in plain sight. The perfect camouflage.” I’d have expected at least an impressed yeehaw from the kid, not a painful hiss. “Listen, I know you didn’t want to come here and I’m not planning on growing roots here but it’s a good place to lay low for a day or two— What the heck?!”

There was an open wound on his shoulder: no blood but a little translucent liquid oozing out, and a metallic bone showing.

_ Crap. _

“When I fell off the seat, I bumped into a piece of metal—” the kid started explaining but I held up a hand to stop him. I got the message, the Bus desperately needed a touch-up.

“Come on, kid, off we go. Can you walk?” I grabbed a fistful of cotton wool from the first-aid kit, pressed it onto his shoulder and helped the kid up. His lips were trembling but he stood steadily on his legs. “We need to find a doctor, er, mechanic.”

“You’re a mechanic.”

Not sure what we might face, I hoisted my duffel bag onto my shoulder. (At least there was an emergency toothbrush in it.) “I’m fairly sure that zillion-credit worthy androids are out of my range of skills.”

Robokid rolled his eyes—and whenever he rolled his eyes, I wanted to roll my eyes too, in a “duhh, teenagers” fashion. Seriously, how can the not-amused eye-rolling even be a function in an android?!

We decided to cross the suburban neighbourhood that started behind the museum—mostly because we didn’t have a better idea. It’s one thing that I weren’t familiar with such fancy areas but why did they have to plant fake memories of an agrarian planet into Robokid’s brain? Why couldn’t it be something useful if he was meant to live in a city? They don’t send expensive androids to farm, they have free-of-charge orphans for that. There were so many shady stuff concerning the poor kid’s memories…

“Shhh—!” I hissed, pulling back the kid—a bit too hard maybe because he yelped in pain but I quickly pressed a hand to his mouth.

As we turned the corner, I spotted a way too familiar aquiline nose so I saw it wiser to retreat. Carefully, I peered out and yes, a guy about the size of Call-Me-The-Vulture, with an impressive nose, was crossing the street. Maybe the Vulture, maybe not him, but let’s _ not _find out.

“Okay, kid, time for a detour. Can you climb?”

“Where?”

“Up and through the fence.”

Great idea, right? We can’t be spotted on the street if we are sneaking through backyards.

“Not sure,” he mumbled. “It’s pretty high.”

He was right. Tough luck but the fence I intended to cross was indeed high and Robokid was dealing with an injured shoulder—he couldn’t have pulled himself up. Still, to mask my concern about his ugly wound, I theatrically groaned as I hoisted Peter onto my back.

“Hold tight, _ Cosette_.”

With a little maneuvering and rearranging the duffle bag, we were through the fence in a blink of an eye—in the middle of someone’s backyard. I admit, that was the weakest point of my plan. What if we run into somebody? What if we run into the guy with the impressive nose? It would have been stupid to get captured by a pirate who happened to live in the neighbourhood.

Lesson number I’ve lost count: paint a gloomy picture and it’ll come half-true!

Before you lot freak out, we didn’t meet the “possibly the Vulture” guy. We even managed to cross two more backyards before running into a woman doing yoga in her own backyard. She was in the middle of Bakasana pose (we learnt that name later) when I landed in front of her with Peter enjoying the piggy back ride. I admired how smoothly she unfolded her limbs and pointed her water bottle at us.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Don’t shoot! He’s hurt, the kid’s hurt. Please, don’t shoot.”

Fine, fine, it wasn’t my brightest hour.

“What?”

“What?”

“Let me see, I’m a nurse.”

I put the kid down, not asking if he wanted to be examined by a third doctor (nurse, but that’s a minor detail), and we bent over him. There came the next surprise. (If my sense of time weren’t so messed up by constant space travel, I’d say it was the longest and most surprising day of my life but let’s just state those were interesting times.)

Nanobots were slowly healing Peter’s injury.

Ms. Yoga Mat quirked her eyebrows. “I’m a nurse, not a mechanic.”

“I’m a mechanic but not an android expert,” I retorted. “It’s a long story.”

“I’m listening.”

“Look, can we go inside?”

“Who are you? A vampire?” She sighed. “You jumped into my garden with a wounded android on your back and now you want me to take you in. Why would I do that?”

“Because it’s a helluva good story?”

“Because we’re nice?” the kid chimed in.

She smiled at him. “I didn’t know androids could have kids.”

“I’m not an android, he is!” I protested. “Nonetheless, he’s still a hurt kid who needs rest.”

“Fine, come on in. But if you try anything, I warn you my yoga technique combined with my bowlings skills is deadly.”

The first part was easy— well, more or less easy. Despite his vehement protests, we put Peter into bed in the guest room, and I ordered him to sleep. Our host fished out a big T-shirt (with an ‘I survived my trip to New New York’ sign—why did she even have it in the first place?!) and a pair of shorts for him as pyjamas. The second part, however…

“Here.” She put a mug of tea in front of me. Real, steaming hot, spicy tea. “I’m May, by the way.”

“Ouch, sorry, I’m such an ass!”

“Nice to meet you, Ass.” We shook hands. “May Parker.”

“Tony Stark.”

“Tell me what brought you into my garden.”

It felt surreal. We were sitting on her couch, sipping tea, the warm afternoon sun drawing stripes onto the furniture in the room, and I recited everything that had happened to us since we’d departed from Regina.

“Interesting story.”

That didn’t sound reassuring, not the slightest.

“But you don’t think we’re serial killers?” Recently I’d started to create bad jokes under pressure. Totes not funny jokes.

“I think that you need some sleep and probably a shower. If you’re hungry, I can make you something.”

Oookay, that’s nice.

“I’m fine. Peter’s probably more tired than hungry but I’ll check on him.”

“Alright. If you want to change clothes—”

“No, no, I have spare clothes in my bag, I’m only short of kids’ clothes. Uhh, I don’t have much practice in packing for kids.”

“I see. Well, I’m short of guest rooms but I guess you’re comfortable with sharing a double bed with your kid.”

“Yeah, no prob.”

“Great. Tomorrow I’ll check your kid’s injury, then we’ll figure out what to do with you.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“The bathroom is at the end of the corridor. You already know where the guest room is.”

“Yeah, right.” I put down my empty mug and got up from the couch, suddenly feeling bone-tired. Ms. Killing-You-Softly-With-My-Yoga-Skills was just sitting there, like I didn’t just tell her a totes unbelievable story. “Ms. Parker—”

“You can call me May.”

“May, er, thank you.”

“Sleep tight, Tony Stark.”

[ ](http://imgbox.com/mhSawizQ)

Usually I’m a heavy sleeper so I don’t understand what happened that night, but whenever the kid shifted, kicked or merely sighed, I woke up. Holding back my breath, I listened to him breathing, then checked his wound—all was well. He was fast asleep. This was repeated at least ten times. No wonder that in the end I overslept and I woke up in broad daylight. The other side of the bed was empty; Peter had disappeared somewhere.

As it turned out, he only went as far as the kitchen where May was baking pancakes for him. Okay, that escalated quickly.

“Good morning, Tony. How did you sleep?”

“Thanks, the bed was great—”

“Look! My shoulder is completely healed!” Peter slid off the seat, tugging at the collar of his T-shirt.

“Easy, buddy! Let me see that shoulder.”

“May checked it and she said it looked fine.” Nonetheless, he let me take a look at his shoulder, and he was right, the wound was gone like it had never been there. The nanobots did their job with flying colours, which raised the forever-returning question—why would someone spend a ton of credits on creating Peter then trust him into the hands of a hauler with an old, rusty ship? Neckless bodyguards should have been protecting him, not me. “See? Good as new.”

“Yeah, very pretty. Tell me when you convinced May that you totes needed sweets for breakfast.”

“Pancakes aren’t sweets, they’re breakfast. The epitome of breakfast.”

“The epi— Where the hell do you learn words like that?!”

“I woke up early and I was bored but didn’t want to disturb you so, so, so I just took a book from the shelf and read it…” he let the end of the sentence fade away.

“You read an entire book. In. A. Morning.”

“Yes.”

I blinked. May shrugged and slipped another pancake onto Peter’s plate.

“AIs are extremely intelligent, even the child-like ones. There’s a reason they’re called artificial _ intelligence _.”

Yeah. Right. Stupid me.

“Can I have coffee, please? I think I need a strong one.”

“Sure. Let’s make it two.” Yesterday we had tea, this morning we were about to drink coffee together—our friendship was rapidly developing. “Could you take out the milk, please?”

She had an old-fashioned fridge, one where you to pull the door to open it. A massive object but it had one nice advantage its owner clearly enjoyed: lots of space for magnets! May even kept a magnetic notepad attached to the fridge’s door, one that currently had a grocery list on it. Judging by her half-burnt pancakes, she wasn’t exactly a kitchen fairy but she was trying. She was probably planning to make a walnut date loaf as the list said self-raising flour, dates, walnuts, brown sugar— Something caught my eye. Something small and insignificant, like a magnetic pen right next to the notepad, one of the cheap merchandising type— one that had OSCORP written on it.

“You work for Oscorp?”

“Yes.”

Trust us trying to avoid Norman Osborn and everything associated with him, and walking right into his employee.

“Okay, let me get this right. You listened to me telling you how I involuntarily stole your boss’ brand new android and you decided to make us breakfast?”

“Basically, yes.”

“Tell me you aren’t a secret agent.”

“No, I’m a nurse. I used to work at the NNYC Children’s Hospital. My husband died last year so when five months ago Oscorp found me with a job offer, I gladly accepted it. They needed a trained nurse, I needed a change. Well, joining an experimental science research team was a huge change.”

“I see.”

The silence that followed was awkward, to say the least. Peter was the one to break it,

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, honey.” She stroked his hair. “Tony, if you’re worried, I won’t give you away to the police.”

“I’m not worried about the police. I’m wondering what you find so suspicious about you boss—because there’s clearly something shady about him and you know that.” I watched her scrape the remains of a half-burnt, half-raw pancake off the frying pan and I made an offer, “Why don’t you give that to me? I’ll cook the pancakes to express my undying gratitude for your hospitality, and you can tell us about your suspicions.”

May huffed. “Fine. Although there’s nothing much to tell.”

Even though the Bus doesn’t have a proper kitchen, I’m surprisingly good at cooking—one day you’ll get the full Tony Stark dinner experience, I promise you, kids. I picked up my kitchen skills here and there, learnt a few tricks, so I’m kinda sure my Vegan Rhino cutlet will blow your mind. But back to the story!

“Just a hunch, really, but something is bugging me about my work. See, I’m on a team that analyzes the effects of different diseases on children’s nervous system. Before you freak out, this doesn’t mean human experiments. I haven’t seen a child since I started working for Oscorp— I mean, not on a biobed. We collect data from hospitals all around the galaxy, as far as Osborn’s power can reach, then we dissect every piece of information in order to examine every aspect. It has more to do with biological engineering than actual medical work but my experience as a nurse has proven useful so far…” she shrugged, letting the end of the sentence fade away. “According to my contract, the results of the analysis are used for medical purposes, and I guess that’s just right— but when you try to trace back where we send the results, all you find are coded messages and hidden addresses.”

Whoa. This sounded unsettling on so many levels.

“Tell me you aren’t a superspy or something.”

“What? I’m not a spy!”

“Maybe you should be.”

There was a pause in the conversation—everybody was munching on pancakes but you could practically hear the clicking of the mixed-up thoughts and questions in our brains. (Let’s not dwell on the fact that in Peter’s case the clicking is probably not only metaphorical but also literal.) As I peered at May from the corner of my eye, I noticed her gazing at Peter again and again. It looked like she was trying to work out something— Yet, much to my surprise, the kid was the first to break the silence,

“Everything leads to Oscorp,” he said through a bite of pancake.

“Peter, don’t talk with your mouth full!”

“‘M sorry.” He swallowed so quickly I was worried he’d choke. Teenagers, always in such a hurry. “I’m just saying that so far we’ve been drifting with the events. Everything happened to us, not by us. Maybe it’s time to turn the tables.” He paused for effect. “I think we should take a closer look at Oscorp.”

“Hold your horses, kid. How do you even imagine that? The nurse, the hauler and the kid waltzes into a huge and rich corporation, and hacks its extremely secure system?”

“It sounds like a plan.”

“It sounds like a joke.”

“I could get you in,” May interjected. “Both of you, if you don’t want to leave Peter alone.”

“Yeah, I shouldn’t stay alone! Pirates might find me. Or worse! Like, superspies.”

“What was your nickname again?”

“Spidey,” the kid grimaced.

“Trouble shoulda’ve been your nickname,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Listen, Peter, if— and I mean, _ if _ I’m paying a visit to Oscorp, you’re definitely not coming. Too dangerous for you.”

“But—”

“Let’s drop the topic, okay?” This whole ordeal was going to give me a zillion grey hairs, I swear. “Thank you, May, for the bold suggestion but I need to think about it first.”

Apparently, in May’s opinion giving me space to think meant teaching Peter how to dance. When I wandered into the living room, some music was on and they were doing this step, step, leg swinging, twirly-twirly thing.

“Left, left, up your leg, good!, right, right, side-glance, side-glance, back step, twirl!” May instructed Peter. They looked really… cute. “Great! If you were taller, I’d teach you to dip me.”

They looked really sweet—so sweet I felt bad for ruining the idyllic moment.

“May, can we talk? Please?”

“What is it? Did you concoct a plan?”

Ignoring the question, I merely rolled my eyes at Peter’s choice of wording. Concoct, really. One thing for sure, he didn’t learn that from me.

“I don’t suppose there’s a back door where you could let me into Oscorp, is there? I was thinking about a classic slip in, fake a fire alarm, steal the data, get lost scenario.”

“Or I could take you through the main entrance as a visitor slash guest, your choice, and together we could find Doctor Octavius.”

“Doctor who?”

“Doctor Otto Octavius, Head of the Science Department. I gave it a thought or maybe two, and I think he could help you. Honestly, he gives me the creeps but he’s that kind of slightly mad scientist whose field of expertise is android technology.”

Robokid grinned. “Clearly sounds like our man, this Doctor Octo— Doctor Ock— Doco— Doc Ock.”

Heck if that didn’t make me proud but he certainly learnt giving nicknames from me.

“When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow, but you’re not coming.”

“You’ve never left me alone!”

I might have a teenager with separation anxiety. Awesome…

“It’s not about leaving you alone, it’s about not taking you with me. There’s a difference. This is a safe place, you’re staying here.”

“But why?”

“Because I said so!” I was trying very, very hard not to lose my patience. “Because I’m the adult here and it’s my job to take care of you!”

“What does that even mean?”

I scratched my neck. “It means that even though you’re made of metal and have replaceable parts, you’re still a kid. I need to protect you, okay? If you get hurt, see, that’s on me.”

“Since you won’t ever deliver this _ package _ to Senator Osborn, I’m not your responsibility anymore.”

“Yes, you are. Strange as it sounds, I care about you, okay?”

My words seemed to have the opposite effect on him than intended. Peter knitted his brows into an angry line.

“But Mr. Stark, I could be useful and you know that, so stop babying me!”

“Peter, technically, you’re a baby; you still need your training wheels, trust me.”

Bad thing to say, apparently.

“Training wheels? Is that so? You only see me as a— as a walking-talking object. I bet that if I had a switch-off button, you’d be more than happy to use it.”

No offense, kids, but why do teenagers have to be so difficult?!

“Stop with the tone, now.”

“Or what, _ Mr. Stark? _”

“Kid, stop calling me Mr. Stark!”

He’d expected me to get frustrated over the question, not my own name and I snapped so harshly at it that for a second Peter forgot about his own anger. “But I thought— I thought it was respectful to call someone by their _ given _ name.”

“Apparently, you have zero idea about respect. Or humans.”

Aaaand the anger was back. “So now I’m less than you because I’m not human?”

“Sorry to break it to you, but yes, even zillion-credit worthy androids are of less value than humans. The universe is unfair. Time to grow up.”

“Maybe you should grow up first!” he shouted and I chose the worst option—shouted back.

“Enough! It’s enough. Go to your room, Peter— I mean, the guest room. Stay there until you calm down.”

[ ](http://imgbox.com/fmtHr46l)

May wasn’t just surprisingly kind, unexpectedly bold and unusually attractive, she also proved to be a very wise woman. After the huge scene we made in the middle of _ her _ living room, she left us in peace— as much as you can be at peace while fuming with anger. My point being, she bore our little soap opera like a champ.

“We should make a plan,” was her only comment “if you still want to go through with your idea.”

“Right now I have no idea what I should do.”

“Well, I certainly can’t tell you that but—”

“But?”

“But I only have one guest room, so if you don’t want to spend the night on the couch, you need to talk with Peter.”

Strong argument. So strong it landed me in front of a closed door with a hand raised to knock.

“Er, Peter?” Knock-knock. “May I come in?”

“Sure,” came the muffled answer.

I opened the door and found Peter sitting on the bed like a mini Buddha. He looked surprisingly calm but maybe that was just the robot facade. Still, robot or human, I was the adult, I had to set an example.

“Peter, I’m sorry for the things I said. I didn’t mean them—at least, not all of them.” He didn’t move a single muscle but it was obvious from his posture that he was listening. “I care about you and don’t think less of you because you’re an android. I should’ve never said anything like that.”

“It’s okay. I understand.”

“Re- really?” I couldn’t believe my ears.

“It was inevitable that you’d get angry with me, sooner or later.”

“Whaaat?”

Finally, the kid turned around, giving me a long, hard look. When he realised that I truly didn’t understand his meaning, he explained himself. “You got angry with Agent Coulson, right?”

“Sort of. I wouldn’t say_ angry _ , I’d say _ frustrated _ but basically, yes.”

“Anyway, the real question is, why did you get frustrated?” a rhetorical question, probably. “Because you thought that both Agent Coulson and I were someone else. Someone different.”

“Now you put it this way, I really sound like a single-minded butt-hole who despises diversity.”

“I didn’t say that. What I was trying to say is that you were right. The universe is unfair—and in my recently gained experience, full of two-faced surprises. But you, see, you’re _ you _.”

“Yeah, just a simple guy and his bus,” I grimaced.

“Mr. Stark, I think it’s good when you know who you are.”

It was breaking my heart how sad his voice sounded.

“That’s still a very lame excuse to get frustrated with someone.” I sat on the edge of the bed. “Kid, I’m going to tell you something I’ve never shared with anyone.” Peter turned so he was fully facing me now, his big brown eyes full of expectation. “Ready? Okay, here we go.” Deep breath. “The truth is that my given name was given to me by me.” A new emotion appeared in his gaze: confusion. “Long story short, there was this guy, Howard Stark, inventor, scientist, billionaire, businessman— sounds cool, yeah? _ I _ thought it sounded cool and heck, Stark is quite a common name, so I asked myself: why not? Why shouldn’t I give myself a cool name? After all, I didn’t have any real chance of being given a name by somebody.” I let my words sink in before I hit him with the real plottwist. “The irony is that Howard Stark wasn’t such a cool guy, not really. After he died, the news were full of his shit. It turned out that I’d named myself after a rich, cold, calculating, sad-ass lonely alcoholic. Pathetic.”

“Maybe I just don’t understand humans but I can’t see anything pathetic in giving a new meaning to the Stark name.” Cover your ears because it’s a secret, but I really wanted to hug him for the sweet defiant look on his face. “You’re braver and cooler than anyone I’ve ever known. Okay, this doesn’t sound much coming from me… Maybe if we count my probably fake memories— I don’t mean my friends were fake! I’m pretty sure my memories are real— Oh, no, I’m making it awkward now.”

I swear I tried oh-so-hard not to laugh—and I royally failed.

“It’s not funny!”

“Oh, kid, you know what my real problem is? You’re way too human.”

“How could I be—”

“No, no, no, trust me on this one. You’re much kinder than most of those cold-hearted ba— baddies running around the galaxy, declaring themselves to be humans. Ugh.”

The self-satisfied grin that went from one big ear to another was worth giving up my macho style. (Although I’m starting to doubt that I ever had anything like that.)

“So, apology accepted or what?”

“Sure! And I apologise for— for my behaviour, I guess. Hug it out?”

The hug felt nice—and that made everything what was about to happen a helluva lot scarier.

“I guess I was trying to hold onto my human memories too much,” Peter said when I finally released him. “I _ know _ that I’m an android—but what does it even mean? What if I have more special abilities, like the super healing? We never got around to test them.” I wanted to interrupt, reminding him about the danger of playing with unknown technology, but he didn’t let me. “It’s nice that you want to protect me, I appreciate it. But if I want to find out who I’m really, I have to risk my synthetic skin.”

“Peter.” I looked him hard in the eyes because so close to giving in I needed him to fully understand the situation. “No matter what I want, I might not be able to protect you.”

“Yeah, well, I trust you. And we really need my hidden android skills, so—”

“Alright, kid. Might regret it ‘til my last day but we’re going to do this together.”

There. It was happening. The nurse, the hauler and the kid were about to hack a multimillion-credit company.

[ ](http://imgbox.com/sN1z8Xxf)

Walking into Oscorp was easy. Everything else wasn’t. If I’ll ever infiltrate a company, next time I’m making a better plan. Or like, a real plan, not just guidelines. And no more splitting up because that didn’t work. The general idea was: May takes Peter to her lab where he tries to hack the system, meanwhile I spy with my little eye something interesting in the stores and dumps. As a junkyard orphan, you can trust me on this—junk can tell you a lot of things.

I was at the “slipping into a cupboard” stage when the first minor inconvenience occurred. The footsteps of May and Peter were met by unfamiliar steps, followed by a woman’s voice,

“May! Hey!”

“Oh, hi, Sandra. So good to see you back! Are you feeling better?”

“Yes, thank you. Much better, actually. But who’s this young man with you?”

_ Holy mackerel, we didn’t think of a cover story! _We were the worst spies the universe had ever seen. My mind was racing with ideas. Maybe Peter could pass as a baby genius who wants to intern for Oscorp. Or as a mini journalist who is interviewing her for the school paper.

“This is— this is Peter Parker, my nephew. He wished to see where I work.”

Tricky girl.

“Nice to meet you, Miss.”

No idea where he got his manners; clearly not from me.

“You too, Mr. Parker. Do you find Oscorp interesting?”

“Very much, yes.”

“Maybe one day you’ll work for us.”

“Maybe.”

The cheeky— !

There was a loud _ Ping! _.

“Oh, sh— Sorry! I’m late for my meeting! It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Parker. Bye, May!”

When the rushing footsteps faded away, I practically fell out of my hiding place. “Everything okay, folks?”

Basically, they ignored me.

“You said I was your nephew.” The kid’s eyes were _ huge _.

“Yes, sorry, I sort of panicked” May stammered, “and this sounded like a good cover story. I didn’t want to force my name on you or anything.”

“No, no, no, no! I didn’t mean it like that. It was an honour to have your name.”

“You can keep it. If you want to.”

“Really?”

Did somebody turn up the lights or were their smiles making everything look brighter?

“Yes. It’d be nice to know that I have a nephew somewhere in the galaxy.”

I didn’t want to ruin their perfect moment—someone else did the ruining for me.

“Mrs. Parker, good to catch you, I wanted to—” May turned around and the guy stopped mid-sentence.

Welp. I’m saying guy but… how should I describe him? When I first caught sight of him, he was wearing a shocked expression but I’m not the one to point fingers; his sight practically paralyzed me. Apart from the shock on his face, he had a white lab coat, greasy black hair, glasses with shaded lenses— and four metallic tentacles supporting him. Judging by his withered limbs, he’d had an accident or a serious illness that left him disabled for the rest of his life. On the other hand, he was smart enough to correct that “mistake” by his own design.

“Dr. Octavius!” May exclaimed. “We were, er, looking for you.”

“Ye-es?” Strangely, he seemed worse at keeping his chill than May—and we were the ones doing shady business! “How can I help you?”

“Maybe we could go somewhere private…?”

To sum it up: our plan worked for five minutes before it went down the drain. I mean, we _ planned _ to consult Dr. Octavious at some point, yes, but based on May’s instincts, that would have come after some computer-hacking and data-stealing. Now we had to improvise.

“Yeah, right… Now that I think about it, I need to attend a meeting but maybe see you in an hour in my lab?”

“Okay?”

“Great. Thanks. Bye.”

See? Zero chill. He didn’t even ask about Peter or me—either he was used to visitors or more likely, he spent too much time away from people. Anyway, I understood why he gave the creeps to May, and trust me, it had nothing to do with the tentacles.

“Uhh, I hope we don’t meet anyone on the last few meters?”

I couldn’t share May’s optimism. “I’m wondering if we’re ever going to make out of this corridor.”

BAMM!

The second a hole was blasted into the wall, barely missing my head, May and I both jumped to cover Peter. Also, how was this my life again?

“That was a warning!”

Wait, I knew that voice!

“Give us the boy and nobody’ll get hurt!”

“Has that ever worked on anyone?”

Lesson number infinite: don’t make jokes when you’re surrounded by baddies!

I looked right, where we should have been going, but that way was blocked by a guy dressed in something that looked like a green and yellow wetsuit. Oh, and did I mention the electric shocker in his hand? So I looked left instead but there was, not kidding, another guy wearing a purple cape and a goldfish bowl. On. His. Head. Seriously, did we really have to run into the most ridiculous space pirates? Because oh yeah, you guessed right—they were our fav pirates, again. Right next to Mr. Bowlhead, shoulder to shoulder, stood Call-Me-Vulture, swinging his treasured weapon at us. At least he couldn’t open his wings here.

I glanced at May and saw that she was calculating our chances too. Not that we had much but it’s easier to tackle one person than two, so— The only question was, should I do the tackling (and the most likely painful meeting with the shocker) or should I be the rearguard aka the living target for Vulture? Decisions, decisions.

“Don’t even think about it,” Bowl Baby said. “Unless you want to play with my friends.”

Right on cue, two figures stepped forward from the aisles to join Mr. Electricity. One of them pointed a spear at us, while the other had a boxer made of stone on his left hand and a hammer made of stone in his right hand… Where were we?! Pre-prehistory?

Anyway, those guys were massive, so there was officially no way out— unless we went through a wall or the ceiling. So… why not? I only needed something strong enough to hit a huge hole into it—

BOOM!

I must have wished really hard on a star because after I blinked the dust out of my eyes, I saw Pepper—and it’d be a lie to say that I’d ever seen anything prettier than Pepper covered in dirt, with a Sig Sauer P168 in her right hand. And with his back to hers, there was Agent Coulson, too! His suit looked suspiciously immaculate. Superspies must use super detergent.

Whatcha sayin’? That I said that blasting doors and stuff was the bad fam way? See, exceptions prove rules.

“Hello, everyone,” Pepper nodded to our gaping pirates. “Meet the woman who can blast ceilings and fight me if you dare.”

Only one thing can follow a sentence like this: chaosssss.

Which meant that I had to do the one thing I’d promised—I had to protect Peter. Even if it meant pressing him into the wall, covering him with my body.

I’d never been a fan of weapons but Pepper’s gun was shooting laser like an avenging angel. Pew! There went Sexy Electricity’s shocker! Turn around and PEW! again! Vulture had to duck to save his neck—different kind of bird now, eh? Alas, but Coulson did his part, too! They worked in such a perfectly choreographed tandem it was a sight for sore eyes. They used to do ballet or what?

WHOOSH! Coulson sent a shot at Man of Stone Weapons so strong that it turned his boxer into sand, badly scorching his hand. Ouch, that must have hurt!

“Watch out!” May literally threw herself at Phil and together they staggered a few steps but managed to stay upright—and more importantly, the Caveman’s spear missed them. Instead of piercing Phil’s heart, it pinned Bowl Head’s cape to the floor. Whoa. Imagine the force it was thrown with if it could break through the metal cover.

“Wha— But why— Really— Why did you— You could have been hurt!”

“You could have been killed!”

Busy with looking confused and shouting at May, Phil sent another shot in the direction of Caveman, effectively knocking him out and taking Happy Electricity off his legs at the same time. Nice move.

“Who are you?” he yelled and May yelled back,

“No, who the hell are _ you _?”

Lovely.

“Don’t stop on my account!” Pepper joined the shouting, sending Man of Stone Stuff into the wall and to sleep like the Sandman. Three down, two more left!

But watch out, the Vulture was escaping! Bowl Head tried to follow suit but Pepper was at his side in one big jump, grabbed him by his collar and stuffed her left fist into his mouth.

“Careful,” she warned the guy. “If you bite me, I’ll survive. But you don’t want me to open my claws, do you?”

Kids, believe me, you don’t meet a person like that every galaxy. Taking down four bad guys single-handedly? That’s the way Pepper operates.

Alright, alright, she had some help from Phil— who, by the way, was still staring at May, like he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“I’m Tony’s friend.” I almost snorted at that. Yeah. Right. “Phil Coulson.” 

“I thought your first name was Agent.” Oops. I didn’t manage to keep that in.

“Don’t mind him, he’s had a bad day. My name is May Parker.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Parker.”

“Please, call me May.”

Phil looked ready to kiss her hand. Or lips. Things were escalating pretty quickly that day.

“You okay, Peter?” He nodded but still, I ran my eyes over him, checking for injuries. Nothing. Apparently, plastering him to a metal wall worked just fine. “Good.”

“See? You did protect me.”

“Don’t count your stars before they can maintain their equilibrium.” I admit, this one sounded better in my head. “But er, I couldn’t have protected you without their help, so— Hey, gang, thanks for the help! How could you find us?”

Phil finally gave up his gazing contest with May. “I’m a secret agent and you literally took a part of the Solicarrier with you. How could I have not found you?”

Fair point.

“We only got the floor wrong but Pepper solved that problem.”

One way to put it, yeah. There was something about this whole “fighting on the corridors” business, I just couldn’t put my finger on it.

“And uhh, what are we going to do now?”

“One of them is still on the run” Pepper answered “and we still have a few questions, so I’d suggest starting with making these birds sing. Is there a cupboard or something where we could store them until Fury arrives?”

“What?! Fury is coming?”

Phil smirked. “Did you expect less from him?”

“Even if I show you an empty storeroom, how will we drag them there? Those guys look kinda heavy,” May nodded towards Caveman and his stone-lover bestie.

“I bet Pepper already has a plan. By the way, May, meet Pepper. Pep, this is May. And I guess facing five baddies in one day is the beginning of a beautiful friendship—”

“Help!”

Great. We didn’t solve our problem at hand, yet we already had another one.

I groaned. “Band, I feel like I shoulda be running with Peter in the opposite direction but also feel that I shouldn’t leave everything to you…? So, dunno, Phil, do you want a hug?”

“I’d like one,” Peter chirped “but we still need to help.”

In the end, we deprived the four unlucky pirates of their weapons and Pepper shut them into my favourite closet. Then she handed the shocker to May and left her to guard the door. (Phil was very reluctant to leave her behind.) Phil and I were the vanguards with Peter trotting after us. We tried to sneak as smoothly as you can do on an open corridor with nothing to hide behind. We checked around every corner— and when I say ‘every’, I mean two because that’s how far it took to find the source of the cry for help.

The Vulture didn’t get too far and Doc Ock was the first person whom he had run into—and chosen to hold hostage.

“Who’s that guy?”

“Mad scientist. I mean, head scientist.” Whoops. What a slip. “What now? Surprise attack?”

Yes, we did a classic “point a gun and shout” thingy. It didn’t work though, as the Vulture started to back and drag the Doc with himself. We had to follow and that really bothered me— that and something else I still couldn’t name. But since I had no better idea, I followed them with Bowl Baby’s gun in my hand and a bad feeling in my gut. My only hope was Pepper catching up and saving the situation—and our sorry butts.

The Vulture reached Lab 19-63 and we desperately needed to do something before more Oscorp employees got caught up in our little disagreement. So I tore my gaze from him and scanned the area. Not much to work with, only a narrow heating duct on the ceiling. Right above Vulture’s head. Oooh, another classic move.

Since I wasn’t sure I could hit the duct with my gun, I tried to get Phil’s attention. So I did something I’d learnt from Robokid—I babbled.

“Hey, Birdman! Time to give up! Come on, last time you tried to catch us, your doom found you from above. Who knows, the ceiling might fall on your head this time. Or worse. Give it up and sing your lil birdie song about your evil plan.”

“Now!” Phil shouted, shooting at the ceiling, which meant that he had 1. caught my message, 2. wanted me to do something. But what?

“The doctor!” Peter moved forward and suddenly it clicked in.

When the laser blew a hole into the duct, burning hot air whooshed out and the Vulture let go of Dr. Octavius to save his own neck. While Phil launched himself at the baddie, Peter and I went for the poor doc. We only wanted to push him closer to the wall so he wouldn’t get crispy but we didn’t calculated in the lab’s photocell door. The only thing we could do was to hold on tight and hope for a not-too-painful landing.

It didn’t hurt so much. We did it, we saved the doctor, we were alive, and as the door closed behind us, I couldn’t help a barbaric yelp.

“And stay out, muffin top!”

Yes, I did use a stronger word, no, I won’t repeat it. Yeeees, I left Phil outside but only because I trusted him to handle Bad Birdie. Better chances without me and the kid, really.

“Strange,” said Peter as I helped him up from the floor. “Why weren’t the door locked? And how come that we wrecked the building and not a single siren wailed?”

I felt like a black hole replaced my brain for a second, then it burst back to life with a zillion colours. Everything became so obvious. Like, obviously, I was an idiot for walking into a trap and happily dragging the kid along.

I spun around to face Doc Ock. “You—”

He grinned, an ugly, self-satisfied grin. “His intelligence is pretty impressive, even if it’s artificial, huh?”

“Peter, RUN!”

“Computer, total lockdown.”

Peter moved for the door but too late, at the doctor’s voice command it was quickly sealed with steel panels. Doc Ock gurgled— guess it was meant to be a giggle.

“There, there, don’t look so sad. Unless your pal is a computer genius, we’ll be here for a while.” With one forceful swing of a tentacle, he knocked the gun out of my hand, leaving a sore feeling in my wrist. Ouchie. “We won’t need that.”

Okay. No gun, no way out, no plan. Phil was a great guy for many things and I trusted Pepper with my life but overriding a mad scientist’s programme was a tough task even for them. If we wanted to get out alive, time was essential, so I started to run my mouth.

“You’re the sixth!” I might have overplayed the drama queen tone a bit.

“From my point of view, I’m the first. The brain. The boss. I brought together this useless bunch of losers.”

“All this to get Peter? But how did you know about him?”

“He put me together,” Peter’s small voice came from behind me and even though I couldn’t see it, I felt him shudder.

“I didn’t just _ put _ you together. I created you!”

“No!”

That was dangerous territory. Emotions boil and explode too easily. We had to sail back to calm waters, so I tried to make Doc Ock tell his story. Classic “reveal your evil plan” move.

“Hey, lemme guess, you sent your winged monkeys after us, so your boss won’t get suspicious.”

Trust our luck to get rid of the pirates then run right into them when they are returning to their base. It was all clear now. They didn’t find us, they were on their way to report to their boss when we appeared in front of them. Alas, we slipped away again but then what did we do? Freakin’ right ya are, we walked into the lion’s den! It was so painfully obvious I wanted to smack myself on the head. I was surprised by Doc Ock’s tentacles, yes, but what surprised _ him _? Seeing Peter at Oscorp, that’s what. Stupid, stupid, stupid Tony!

“I bet it was your idea to send Peter here as a package. The perfect smokescreen for a zillion-credit worthy android, or so you said and Osborn lapped it up.”

What’s worse than a self-satisfied evil genius? Nothing.

“It was a brilliant plan but those idiots ruined it! I can’t trust anything to them if I want it to be done. Seriously, why is life so hard?”

I’d have offered my sympathies if I’d had any.

“Okay, you built a Drevolvid, congrats. If you wanted one so badly, why didn’t you make another one?” Somehow, it didn’t seem to be the right question but I couldn’t come up with a better one. “I mean, if you could boost up your lil boyband’s weapons with Oscorp tech—because that’s what you did, didn’t you?—, why didn’t you just take more stuff and put together your own toy?”

“Ohh, but Peter isn’t a simple Drevolvid. He’s an Anima 1.0, the first of his kind.”

Peter stepped next to me and I glanced at him. Confusion was written all over his face— and something else. Confusion and fear?

“And? What’s the difference? Pour your cleverness on us, come on.”

“How should I put it for you to understand? Peter has a very delicate technology. He’s more human than any android ever.”

“In what way? Does he have biotech parts fused with human tissue or what?”

“Pay attention! That would that make him a cyborg.”

“Sorry, Sir, but my dog ate my homework about the differences of androids and cyborgs.”

Even though I knew the difference between cyborgs and androids, I think I did a pretty good job at playing dumb because I already felt like an idiot for different reasons.

“Peter has a soul, you idiot!”

“What, is that a metaphor?”

Before the Doc could have answered, Peter beat him to it. “It isn’t if by _ soul _ you mean memories.” He tore off his gaze from Doc Ock and turned to me. His eyes were full of tears. “Tony, those memories are real! Ned, Michelle, Gwen, Sam, Ava, Luke, Danny, I remember all of them now! I remember Michelle drawing a picture of us into the dirt. I remember Sam stealing Ava’s apple and Ava chasing him for it.” Even in the middle of a hopeless situation, the memory of his friends made Peter smile. I couldn’t understand how a hideous mind like Doc Ock created such a precious kid. “I remember wrestling with Luke just for fun. I lost every time. Luke was the strongest and Gwen was the kindest of us. And Danny! Ned and I would talk for hours and Danny would just sit there, listening to us ranting about stupid stuff with a small smile on his lips. But Ned, he loved the stars and we made a thousand plans to go out there. We vowed to leave Taurus V together. The eight of us.” He knotted his brows. “Wait. There should have been ten of us. Every group is made up of ten kids, that’s how it’s arranged on Taurus V.”

“It’s okay, Peter, you got it,” I murmured, seeing his long face.

“I think— I think there was Michelle’s brother, Gabe, but he was too small, so he was transferred to a different group.” Okay, that sounded bad but I was prepared for worse. “And there was Sally too. But she got sick and—” a sharp intake of breath “And she died!”

Did I say I was prepared for worse? I miscalculated the levels of wrong about to be faced.

“She contracted the Asth-2 disease and she was separated from us. By the time she was taken to the hospital, I’d already caught it from her. So they took me too, into an white and cold room with so many empty beds.”

“But you’re an android, you can’t get sick.” My brain wasn’t catching up. “Or if you can— Well, you recovered. See? You’re here and you’re not sick. Perks of super healing and all that jazz.”

“No, you don’t get it.” Peter seemed to be forcing the words out of himself. “I didn’t recover. I died.”

A white static noise and another black hole in my brain. Then finally (and way too late) it all clicked into place.

Oscorp had doctors and nurses researching children’s diseases effects on the neural system but they had never been searching for a cure. Asth-2 was deadly but it corrupted the respiratory system, not the neural. Perfect for Doc Ock’s little experiment. They let them die. They let Sally die probably because she had an average intelligence. And they let Peter die because he was cleverer than the kids at his age.

Doc Ock must have found a way to transfer the soul to an artificial body but the distance was too big to bring the soul here, to New New York. Regina was closer to Taurus V, so the doctor had to travel there. After all, souls can blink away in a second. Maybe not in Peter’s case. Maybe he could have been saved. If only they had cared about curing, not experimenting. If only somebody had cared.

Peter was an innocent, kind, smart human kid who didn’t do any harm to anyone. His only fault was being too intelligent. Yet they took his childhood, his friends, and his life, and manipulated his memories, so he could become some rich, spoilt kid’s walking-talking teddy bear.

“You monster!”

What’s worse than a self-satisfied evil genius?

Finding out that his self-satisfaction comes from killing your kid.

“Let’s face it. Humanity failed as a species. Human bodies are so fragile… so useless… Why shouldn’t we wear armor instead of skin? Imagine the things great minds could do protected by an invincible shell!”

I gritted my teeth and balled my hands into fists. I had no gun, no plan, no genius mind, but I was ready to take on him.

“Break them in, train them well, and you have an army. Sounds grand, right?”

Suddenly I felt a soft touch on my right fist—it was Peter’s hand. Inhuman but warm. Small but strong. I should have protected him but somehow he became my strength.

“It’s okay, Tony. He failed.” Oh boy, that smile on his face! Huge fail, Doco Ocko, a huge fail indeed. Nobody could ever break my kid, no matter what they did to him. “I know who I am and I’ll never forget it again.”

I thought about interlacing our fingers but it was his big moment and he was twelve, for Jupiter’s sake. He needed support, not babying, so I put my arm around his shoulders instead. Not a good position to fight but at least helluva cool.

“It doesn’t matter. Next time I won’t repress the memories, I’ll erase them.”

“Why do you think there will be a next time?”

“There are so many orphans and we care so little about them…”

Ugh, that menacing grin on his face! I shoulda have been more suspicious.

“Give up, Doc, you can’t win. Someone will always stop you.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” He took four steps back. “I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.” Another four steps. “But I know one thing.” Why was he still backing away from us? I mean, we looked cool but that was all. “You’re going to die here.”

Ohh. Lesson number who knows but it’s probably a prime: when you find yourself in a tight corner, less heart-to-heart moments, more useful plans!

“Computer, code 22-06-20-11.”

CRASH!

Shit, not again, was my last conscious thought. The last subconscious was to cover the kid with my body. Next thing I knew that the ceiling came down, this time without Pepper, and it felt like stars were raining on us.

Then everything went black.

[ ](http://imgbox.com/mhSawizQ)

When I woke up, a zillion sensations rushed at me. Softness. A dull pain in my chest. Semidarkness. Thirsty. A faint glowing light. Tired to my bones. The smell of furniture polish, lavender, and freshly ironed clothes. I shivered. The glowing came from my chest. I tried to move. My head. To look at it.

“Hey, Tony, Tony, it’s okay. Slowly, right?”

“May?” I rasped.

“Yes, hi. It’s me. May.” She supported my head and brought a cup of water to my lips. “Take a sip. Slowly. Good?”

“Good. More.”

“Okay, but remember? Slowly.” I drank some more. “Better?”

“Yes. Thanks.” Forming words was still a difficult task. So was moving. I tried to bring up my left hand to my chest. “Where is the kid?”

“Peter’s fine. Right now he’s in the kitchen, after I’d ordered him to eat. He’d have guarded your bed day and night if it wouldn’t be for us, responsible adults.”

“Is this your house?” Maybe just the lack of lights, but the place didn’t look familiar.

“Yes. This is my bedroom slash temporary sick-bay.”

“I see.” My mind still felt hazy. “Did we have this conversation before?”

“Yes. Three times with me, twice with Peter, once with Pepper.”

“Peter was here?”

“He was here all the time—unless someone ordered and/or dragged him to eat, bath, sleep.”

Okay. My brain was still rebooting.

“When can I see him?”

“Soon.”

My fingers inched closer to the middle of my chest. Closer to my heart. I should be feeling the drum of— “What’s this? May, what the—” Suddenly I felt out of breath. I felt metal in my chest. “My heart, May, my heart— What—” I wheezed out the words.

“Tony, Tony, look at me.” I felt her hands on my shoulders. “Here, look. It’s me. May.” I tried to focus on her face. “Now, breathe with me. In and out. In and out.”

We breathed together until I calmed down. Running my fingers around the metal circle, I looked down and finally saw the source of the glowing. It came from just above my heart.

“An arc reactor,” I breathed out. “What happened?”

“In the explosion, your heart was… injured. You had to be put on permanent life support.” She gestured towards my chest. “The arc reactor is your permanent life support.”

Her flat, unemotional voice took the edge of it but still, I couldn’t help but feel nauseated. _ Permanent _. Permanent aka the opposite of temporary. I had to live with a night light in the middle of my chest for the rest of my life.

Okay. I gritted my teeth and tried to fight back panic.

“Who did the operation?”

May sighed. “Peter.”

That was too much. I fainted.

When I came back to my senses, May was still there, her face in her hands. She looked bone-tired like she hadn’t slept for days.

“Hey,” I croaked.

“Hey.”

“How long was I out? I mean, in total.”

“Long enough to have everyone worried to mad. Especially Peter.”

Hearing his name, I flinched. I desperately needed to see the kid but at the same time… at the same time I wasn’t sure I could handle seeing him. There was so much to wrap my head around first.

My thoughts must have been written all over my face because May said, “Tony, I know it’s a lot to take in but you must remember one thing: Peter saved your life.”

“I know, just—” I squeezed my eyes shut. It still hurt to think. “Am I dying?”

“No. You’re alive and stable. Dr. Connors examined you—”

“Is Fury here, too? Wait, I don’t actually care.” I let out a long breath. “I need some sleep.”

“Okay. Do you feel any pain? Or just tired?”

“Just tired.” Just half a lie.

“It’s alright. You can rest now.”

Don’t know how long I slept but I half-expected to wake up with May by my side.

It was Peter.

“Tony!” His shoulders twitched as if he had wanted to move forward but he froze mid-motion and went rigid. Even in the dimmed lights I could see a zillion emotions swirling in his eyes: joy, worry, relief, fatigue, fear…

I might have felt angry with him for making decisions about _ my _ life. I might have panicked when May had broken the news to me. I might have wondered if there could have been another solution.

But as soon as I saw Peter in one piece—and dead worried for me, of me—, all of my anger and doubt disappeared. I didn’t need to get angry or confused. I just needed my kid.

“Hey, buddy. You all right?”

“I’m fine. How do you feel?”

“Weird but alive.” I stretched one arm towards him. “Don’t I deserve a hug or what?”

He averted his eyes and mumbled, “I thought May’d told you. It’s my fault.”

“She told me that you’d saved my life. Though she didn’t share the deets so please, come here and humour me.”

I might be constantly challenging the universe with my way too bold use of language.

Because waking up to finding an arc reactor in your chest is a jolly surprise, compared to your kid telling how he’d lifted the concrete and debris off both of you (“I have a metal skeleton and super strong synthetic muscles, so— Although my synthetic skin is not so super elastic, it tore a bit but the nanobots healed it.”), then dragged your lifeless body to the lab next door (“Half of the equipment was ruined but still got some stuff to work with.”), where he’d thought that the best course of action would be to open his own chest (“It hurt more than I’d expected but at least the laser scalpel didn’t let me bleed to death.”), take out his arc reactor (“I mean, I’ve never really needed two hearts.”) and surgically build it into a living organism—in which his only help was a text he’d downloaded five minutes ago from the main computer’s server (“Super quick reading, boo-yah!”). Then faint due to chest trauma and let the nanobots take care of his self-inflicted injury.

“I’m so sorry, Tony, but you were dying and I didn’t know what to do!”

Still trembling with shock, I tried to fish out comforting words from the depth of my brain.

“Everything’s all right, Peter, I’m not mad at you. I could never get mad at you— especially not for saving my life. And I swear—” My voice almost dried in my throat “I swear that I’m never ever gonna fail to protect you. Never. You pull something like this again, I’ll surely get a heart attack. So I’ll have to do a better job of protecting you next time.”

“You did a great job.”

Yeah, it almost got both of us killed. What a marvellous man I was.

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t think… stuff. About yourself. I tried it; it’s not nice.” Bonus: not only he had to make a decision hard for an adult and way harder for a twelve-year-old, Peter spent long days beating himself up for it. “We saved each other.”

I liked his approach to… to this craziness.

“Think it could stay that way? You and me, challenging the universe, driving around the stars in the Bus? Whaddaya say?”

His grin reached from ear to ear but the best was to see his eyes light up with pure joy. “Can I? Can I stay with you?”

“I’m asking you to stay with me. As long as you want to.”

Peter frowned. “Do you think we can slip away from S.H.I.E.L.D. again?”

“S. H. I. E. L. D.?”

“Strategic Homegalactic Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. They finally came up with an acronym.”

“You can if someone gives you a headstart. Someone like me.” Pepper was standing in the doorway. “Knock, knock. Thought it’d be time to check on you and what a surprise to find you two already conspiring. How are you, boys?”

“Seeing you, Pep, is worth a painkiller.”

“Peter? Has May examined you today?”

“Yes, but I’ve already said—”

Pepper cut him off with a gesture of her hand. Her human hand. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop right there. When we found you, both of you were unconscious and covered in blood, so I’ll hear no arguments. Or do you want me to call Dr. Connors?”

“‘M sorry.”

“How come that Fury and his band are around and we get to stay with May?”

“Let’s just say that I’m much better at arguing than Peter is… and Phil pitched in, too. Dr. Connors didn’t see it necessary to take you up to the Solicarrier’s sick bay and Fury is kinda busy with the Oscorp hell,” she shrugged.

“Doc Ock got away, huh?”

“He won’t get too far.”

“Fury is going after him?”

“I think Fury is too busy with clearing up the Oscorp dunk. Luckily, I’ve got just the woman for the job.” She flashed her metallic claws; the movement didn’t last more than a heartbeat but the message got through.

“You’re going after the Doc? Pepper, I’ve got the highest respect for you but that guy is batshit crazy! Sure you want to confront him alone?”

“Oh, I’m not going to be alone,” Pep smirked like the cat that got the canary. “I’m meeting the Romanoff sisters on New Budapest, Sector Red. Can’t wait to see them again.”

Ahh, that clearly gave a different view of her decision. Tatiana and Natasha Romanoff, deadliest bounty hunter sisters in the galaxy? Best companions against a mad scientist.

“Er, have fun? Give my best wishes to the girls.”

“Thanks. But I’m not leaving until you feel well enough to sneak away. Someone has to cover your traces, after all.” Pepper put her hand on the doorknob. “Fifteen minutes, boys. You need to rest, both of you.”

“Yes, mom!” we answered in union and she only rolled her eyes at us before closing the door behind her.

“What does Pepper drink?” Peter whispered and I whispered back, “The blood of her enemies.” making him giggle. Then he rested his head on my shoulder, gingerly, so as not to hurt me. It still hurt a bit but feeling the weight and warmth of him made me forget the pain.

“May and Phil can help her cover our traces.”

“Why do you say that?”

“They’re doing an awful lot of handholding lately.” He absently scratched his nose. “I think May plans to join S.H.I.E.L.D. She keeps saying she has to correct her mistakes.”

I hummed. It must have hit her hard, learning what a horrible purpose her work had served. I didn’t blame her for the role she had played at Oscorp—she’d do the self-reproaching all by herself—, in fact, I thought we were lucky to meet her. And Phil? Phil was the luckiest bastard in the galaxy.

“I’m not worried for your pseudo-aunt. She’ll make an excellent S.H.I.E.L.D. agent if she wants to,” I said and Peter nodded in agreement.

“But what are _ we _going to do? Can we just go around the galaxy and watch the stars?”

I might or might not have thought about it before, I’ll leave that to you, kids, but one thing sure, I was ready with the answer. “I suppose I could work as a mechanic. I put the Bus together ages ago and the old girl is still going. Whenever we run out of supplies, we stop and repair stuff until we get enough credits to go on. How does that sound?”

“Sounds nice.” His voice sounded sleepy. “We’re good at fixing this.”

“Yeah, we are.”

Some time passed in silence. I thought Peter had fallen asleep and was drifting off to sleep myself when,

“I can’t stop thinking about the stuff Doc Ock said. About orphans.” Bed-ridden or not, I wanted to jump up and join Pepper in his chase after the doctor. “What if he tries it again? What if he sells his plans? What if another orphan gets sick and—” The kid paused. “Can’t we do something?” He must have mistaken my contemplative silence for refusal because he went on, “Just someone. Please. Not every orphan on every planet, that would be impossible. Just save someone.”

The rest is history. I’ll always remember the night when we landed on Taurus V. Your faces… Like you had seen a ghost! Am I right, Peter? Counting you lot, that was a tight moment. You introduced yourselves— one, two, three, four, five, six, seven! A weight had been lifted from us. And nobody made comments about the Bus, well done, kids!

But why am I talking about it? You were there, you know how it happened. Besides, I promised one bed-time story. It’s time to sleep or Pep will come after you. Just kidding.

Everyone feels comfy? Remember, kids, you’re safe here. I’ll always protect you. You can sleep now.

Sweet dreams, kids.

**Author's Note:**

> The fantastic art was created by [huntress79](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huntress79/pseuds/Huntress79)  
Shout-out to the [mods](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiderVerseBigBangMods) for organizing the event!  
A zillion thanks to [Tatiana](https://faedragonmyths.tumblr.com/) for the betaing and the support! It was amazing to work with you.  
And last but not least, thank you for reading!


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